


Something Brewing

by Draco_sollicitus



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Advice from Iroh, Awkward Zuko, Eventual Smut, F/M, Falling In Love, Fire Lord Zuko, Flirting, It’s just fluff and then when it’s smut it’s a lot of smut, Oops there's sort of a plot now, Post-ATLA, Post-Canon, Tea as an Over Extended Metaphor, What comics?, idk how else to describe, two idiots in love
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-16
Updated: 2020-07-18
Packaged: 2021-03-04 00:01:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 28,298
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24764290
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Draco_sollicitus/pseuds/Draco_sollicitus
Summary: When Katara returns to visit the Fire Nation after nearly a year away, Zuko is struck by how much his feelings towards her have changed.It's all he can do to not blurt his emotions out to her, or to make a fool of himself -- but, with some advice from Uncle Iroh, Zuko decides to be patient in his courting of the Waterbender.And, it yields some ... interesting results.
Relationships: Katara/Zuko (Avatar)
Comments: 449
Kudos: 1678





	1. Jasmine Tea

**Author's Note:**

> HELLO
> 
> (I wasn't able to update my Avatar!Zuko fic today, so here's a little fluffy/smutty two-shot to make up for it!)
> 
> The second chapter is smutty -- I hope you enjoy the fluffy first chapter as these two goobers build up steam :)

Sometime after his twenty-first birthday, Zuko discovers that there’s something besides the sun that makes his blood run hot.

It boils inside of him, and he wonders if everyone around him can see the flames leap to his belly, his throat when it happens; it shocks him when he opens his mouth and no plume of fire emerges, only words that he can barely rasp out, like he’s a nervous teenager again:

“Greetings, Katara.” He bows to the Waterbender at the end of the dock, who he hasn’t seen in almost a year.

She was a girl when they met, he reasons, on a different side of a war, and then an ally in a fraught dynamic where the entire world hung in the balance. Zuko had rationally understood that the girl from the Southern Water Tribe was pretty, but she had been a girl, and he had been a boy, and death had always been right there.

Death doesn’t seem to lurk around him anymore. Not in the same way. And Katara is undoubtedly a young woman now, nineteen with a fuller figure that he certainly shouldn’t let his gaze linger on for any amount of time.

But, as she gets off the boat that brought her here and walks towards him, it feels like Sozin’s Comet blazing through the sky. A shrieking sound, not unlike a kettle in his uncle’s shop, fills his ears, and he almost misses her reply.

“Greetings, Fire Lord.” Her tone is playfully regal, and her bow is too deep to be formal. “I send the warm regards of my tribe, and my father Hakoda, the chief.”

Zuko feels his mouth quirk up to one side as she stands, and whatever she sees in his face has her smiling wide.

“Can I escort you to the palace?” He asks, offering her an arm.

“As long as I don’t have to take one of those -” She wrinkles her nose, searching the street, and Zuko huffs a laugh.

“Palanquins?”

“Those things,” Katara confirms with a nod.

“We’ll walk,” Zuko says, and he makes a note to thank the guards later because it is a significant walk through the city, and they’ll have to be on more vigilant watch with him in the open.

If his guards question his decision to forgo the safety of his normal transportation, they don’t say anything. Katara takes his arm and steps in close to him, and he feels his eyes flutter shut for a moment.

He hasn’t seen her in almost a year - and now, she’s so close, like no time at all had passed, like she can just slip right into the pages of his life so easily, barely making a ripple on the surface of the still waters of his somewhat stifled life.

_ Boring is good,  _ says a voice in his head that sounds suspiciously like Iroh.  _ If you have time for boring, it means you are safe.  _

But the change Katara brings isn’t classified as dangerous, Zuko thinks. At least not … the kind of danger that had a group of kids sprinting around the world and plotting the overthrow of the  Father  \- Fire Lord. 

She talks to him quickly, filling him in on her adventures around the southern parts of the world, how she’d helped Aang rebuild temples, how she’d helped her brother build up technological advancements in hard to reach areas, how she’s taught healing to women in various places -- and Zuko watches her, drinking in her words like they’re a rainfall after the dry season.

He’s missed her, he realizes with a jolt. Beyond how pretty she’s become (when she was already pretty), beyond any physical reaction he has to her appearance. He’s missed  _ Katara _ . 

Then, she tilts her face up to him with an unfeigned smile, so different from the trained ladies of the court, and asks, “What have you been up to, Zuko?”

“Nothing interesting,” he says with a shrug. “Nothing that isn’t … royal news. Or gossip.”

“Nonsense.” Katara glances around the side street the guards have led them down. “What are three interesting things you’ve seen this week? Go!”

“Um.” Zuko blinks, trying to recover, and then looks down at her with a smile. “You.”

“Ugh.” To his surprise, she blushes a color similar to the dye of his robes. “That doesn’t count.”

“How? It’s true.”

“Nope.” Katara shakes her head stubbornly. “Three actual things. Fire Nation things. No, wait - only things that  _ you’ve  _ noticed. You-you, not Fire Lord-you.”

The guards behind them exchange a secret smile.

“Fine.” He sighs and pretends to be put-upon by her line of questioning, but the flame in his blood settles behind his chest and flutters there in a strange, not unpleasant way. “Uhm. Fire lilies in my private garden. I see them when I meditate.”

“Fire liles.” Katara smiles again. “I’ve missed them. They won’t grow anywhere south of here.”

“I know.” Zuko grins, amused. “I sent a cutting to your father so he could grow you some, but he sent me a letter saying they’d died on the way there.”

Her feet stop, and he stops too, his pace slowing on instinct when the lady he’s escorting comes to a halt.

“I didn’t know that.” Katara pulls her arm away from his and frowns up at him, her blue eyes catching the light from the clear sky.

“Well, you were traveling.” Zuko wants to drag a hand through his hair to hide his face, but he’s in a top knot, and he simply can’t walk around Caldera City with his hair hanging in his face. “It was supposed to be a surprise.”

“My Lord?” A guard clears her throat. “It’s best if we don’t stop for too long-”

“Right. Sorry.”

He and Katara continue to walk, and she slips her arm through his again. Zuko’s glad she’s lost in thought so she can’t feel his heart pound.

So much has changed since the last time he saw her: Mai left to join the Kyoshi Warriors; Aang went on a journey to the Spirit World after he decided once and for all to sever his earthly ties as much as possible (he doesn’t think he’ll ever forget Katara’s letter); and, Katara’s become a thousand times more beautiful than any woman he’s ever seen.

“You have two more,” Katara says suddenly, “things, that is.”

“Oh.” Zuko wonders if his face is as red as it feels. He touches the side of his neck, forgetting that there’s a curtain of hair now to block his path -- somehow, he feels sixteen again, sixteen and nervous and shaggy and terrified, sixteen and a thousand years old, all at once. 

She’s torturing him, somehow, without lifting a dainty finger.

“Um. I went through my mother’s things.” He doesn’t look over at her, doesn’t have to. She’s staring at him. He can feel it. “And. I found a comb. Made from ebony. It was pretty.” He swallows. “I gave it to Azula.”

“How did she react?”

Katara is perhaps the only person he’ll talk to about Azula -- he’d tried a few times with Mai, but he could tell it made her miserable with guilt, and she’d shut down the few times he’d tried.

Katara had been there on Azula’s worst day, which was, in some ways, his worst day. He doesn’t mind when she asks questions about his sister.

“She seemed happy with it. She remembered Mom using it, and she let me put it in her hair for her.” 

“That was really kind of you, Zuko.”

Zuko shrugs, his face burning worse than before. 

“Turtleducks,” he says, wanting to change the topic.

“What about them?” 

“I saw them. This morning. Every morning, really. But they’re back for the season, and they’re in my garden, and … you can see them. If you want.” He ducks his head. “The turtleducks.”

“I’d like that,” is all Katara says in response to his awkward mumbling, and Zuko smiles, relieved.

“Alright. I’ll show you, then.”

“Alright.” 

They both smile at their feet, and as they enter the palace grounds, Zuko’s mind gets away from him as he imagines the consequences of asking Katara to stay longer than a week.

Maybe a month. Or two. Or a year.

Or forever.

He shakes himself and lets out a heated breath.

“Do you want to join me for tea?” He asks, awkward again, as they reach the entrance to the palace. 

“Tea?”

“After you’ve changed and rested, of course,” Zuko adds quickly, mortified already, “Uncle is visiting, and he’d like to see you, and tea is - nice -”

“Tea is nice.” If Katara thinks he’s the biggest loser this side of Ba Sing Se, she doesn’t say. “What time will the Fire Lord be expecting me?”

“Whatever time works for you.”

“Okay, then.” 

“Okay.” 

They stare at each other for a moment, and he sees a twitch in Katara’s cheek - she’s clearly hiding a laugh. Mortified again, he bows and mumbles something about, “Fire Lord business, gotta go … do the Fire Lord … things,” and makes a hasty retreat towards the west wing of the palace.

He turns the corner and sweeps into a private study, slamming the door shut.

“Fire Lord things?” Zuko grabs a book and shakes it as though shaking himself. “Fire Lord  _ things _ ? What is wrong with me?” He tosses the book away from him like a discus. 

“I didn’t even walk her to her rooms!” He shouts to nobody. “Aurgh!” 

He bangs his head against a wall for a few seconds before he straightens up, smooths his robes out, and rushes off to tell his uncle of their expected visitor.

* * *

Zuko sits across from Uncle Iroh, his fingers tapping an anxious rhythm against his knee.

Iroh doesn’t even glance up from his teapot. “Nephew.”

“Uncle.” Zuko eyes the door, even though Katara isn’t expected for another quarter of an hour. 

“What troubles you, my boy?”

Zuko considers running out of the room to see if Katara needs an escort to tea. “Nothing.”

“Nephew.”

“Nothing,” he insists, and then groans. “Just - waiting for our guest to arrive.”

“If you wanted Lady Katara to arrive at this exact moment, you could have told her to meet us at an earlier-”

“She wanted to walk around the marketplace.” Zuko rubs his temples and reminds himself that’s his major reason for not waiting outside her rooms like an idiot - because she’s probably not even in her rooms. “After her journey, Katara needed to … move around.”

“Ah. I look forward to helping her settle in after such a long time at sea.” Iroh hums and adds some more fuel to the fire. “That should suffice.”

“Forgive me for saying so, Fire Lord Zuko,” and of course he fights an eye roll at his uncle’s insistence on titles even now, “but you seem particularly anxious at the thought of Lady Katara joining us. I had thought you two were close-”

“We were!” Zuko snaps. “I mean - we  _ are  _ close. We are.”

“It has been a long time since we have seen her in person,” Iroh comments, stoking the fire a little higher. “And from what I understand, like you, she has had much time to grow and change in this last year-”

“She’s still Katara.”

“Yes, of course.” Iroh’s mouth twitches. “And you are still Zuko.”

“Yeah.” Zuko’s throat spasms uncomfortably. “I am.”

“This is not a bad thing, my nephew. If you can grow but stay true to yourself - that is a sign of strong character.”

“I guess.” Zuko eyes the door again.

“I hope it is not an impertinence to suggest that your anxiety might stem from a … particular interest you have in Lady Katara?”

“What?” Zuko’s good eye widens, and the fire that Iroh’s been tending flares without warning. “No!”

“Nephew!” Iroh scolds, rushing to fix his fire. “I had just gotten it perfect to brew a calming pot of jasmine tea.”

“I’m sorry, Uncle, I just-”

“Didn’t expect me to get to the truth so quickly?” Iroh guesses, smirking in a way that would require banishment, were he any other citizen of the Fire Nation. He takes Zuko’s sulking silence as confirmation. “Hm. And am I correct in guessing that these are new feelings?”

No point in lying, he figures. “Yes,” Zuko admits, and then glances down at his folded hands. “No. Maybe? It was all - mixed up, during the war, and then I had Mai, and she had Aang, so I … I don’t know. I ignored it. Whatever it was I felt for her, or thought I felt for her.” Zuko makes himself look up, and is glad to see that Iroh isn’t smirking anymore, only looking at him thoughtfully.

“It’s crazy of me to even consider it. But, it’s like she got off that boat, and the last year, the last five years all… went away. And I don’t know what it is about her, but I see her, and I just want to … I want to…”

“Kiss her?” Iroh asks gleefully, and Zuko groans and falls back on the cushions laid out for tea. “No. Wed her!”

“Uncle!”

“Perhaps something you do not wish to talk to your  _ elderly old uncle  _ ab-”

“Agggh!”

Zuko drags himself upright in time to see Iroh hiding giggles in his sleeve. “Don’t talk about Katara like that,” he says crossly, and Iroh lifts an eyebrow.

“I meant no disrespect in my teasing of you, nephew.”

“I know,” Zuko mumbles, glancing down again. “It’s just … it’s not like that with her. Although I guess it is. It feels like…”

“Wildfire in your veins.”

He looks up again, surprised at the accuracy. “Exactly.”

Iroh’s expression has fallen to a sadness though, one that makes Zuko shiver to see. “Uncle?”

“That is how I felt about my late wife.” Iroh’s voice cracks like pottery set on a kiln for too long. “My beloved.”

“I’m sorry, Uncle-”

“Don’t be.” Iroh shakes his head and offers a sad smile. “It is good to hear that such a passion has captured your heart, my son.”

For all his reliance on titles,  _ son  _ makes Zuko the happiest to hear.

“It’s so quick.” Zuko shakes his head. “But - I keep thinking, she’ll walk through the door, and I’ll tell her. And she’ll throw the teapot at my head-”

“-I hope not, I’ve put a lot of energy into finding this exact teapot-”

“-or I’ll try to kiss her-”

“You cannot, nephew!” His uncle is aghast now. “Not before courting her!”

“I understand.” Zuko rubs his eyes. “Ugh, what is  _ wrong  _ with me-”

“Nothing is wrong with you, nephew. But, it is like making a pot of jasmine tea.” Iroh gestures at the teapot and Zuko makes himself pay attention, even if he’s had enough long-winded, Iroh-metaphors for a lifetime. “You can easily boil the water using your bending, but then you will lose all control of the brew.”

“It is better,” he continues, opening the jar of jasmine leaves and extracting a few carefully, “to let the fire build naturally, to keep it at a comfortable heat. And then, when you have developed patience,” he adds the leaves, “you can pay attention to your tea and make sure you produce a delicious cup of love.”

“Cup of love,” Zuko repeats dryly.

“Am I interrupting something?”

Zuko almost yelps and tumbles backward in his haste to get to his feet -

Katara’s appeared in the doorway, and she’s eyeing Iroh’s tea lesson with clear amusement.

“Lady Katara!” Iroh gets to his feet more gracefully and sweeps towards the young woman, arms outstretched. “It is lovely to see you!”

She accepts his hug graciously, and smiles at Zuko over Iroh’s shoulder. “It smells delicious.”

“Thank you, my dear, thank you.” He gestures for her to sit, and Zuko realizes, mortified, that he’s directing her to sit right next to Zuko.

Where his wife would sit, if this were a traditional pre-wedding tea ceremony.

Great.

This is why he doesn’t tell Uncle anything.

“I was explaining the appropriate techniques of brewing jasmine tea to my nephew,” Iroh explains, gesturing at the pot and smiling at Katara. “And how he must learn  _ patience  _ if he wants to see his dreams come true.”

“His dreams of … perfect tea?” Katara’s staring at him, but he refuses to look away from the chipped bottom of his tea cup.

“Mhm.” Zuko nods. “Yes. Perfect tea.”

“Sounds like you miss working at your uncle’s tea shop,” Katara teases. “How  _ is  _ the Jasmine Dragon, Iroh?”

And that of course has Iroh fussing and fawning for a few minutes before he pours them each a cup of steaming tea.

“How is it?” He asks slyly, watching Katara drink deeply. 

Zuko glowers at his uncle over the table, until Iroh glares at him and points at his cup. With a sigh, Zuko sips from his tea and begrudgingly has to admit it isn’t bitter like most hot leaf juice.

“Delicious,” Katara sighs contentedly, smiling at Iroh, who beams at her.

“The best,” Zuko echoes, fidgeting in his seat. 

“Maybe one day, you will learn the benefits of patience so you may create your own cup of love,” Iroh says to him pleasantly, and Katara continues to drink, blissfully unaware of the battle of wills happening between nephew and uncle. Zuko loses.

“Right.” Zuko clears his throat. “Is that a new … scarf, Katara?”

“What?” She touches the colorful fabric around her neck. “Oh, yes! I picked it up in Omashu a few months ago.”

“It’s … pretty,” Zuko says, staring at his cup, mortified. 

“Thank you?”

He nods and drains the rest of his cup in one go, the still hot liquid rushing down into his stomach where it does little to dampen the sputtering fire that’s been building since she arrived.

The rest of tea passes less awkwardly, and both Iroh and Zuko escort Katara to her rooms with a request that she join them both for dinner. When the door closes behind her, Katara waving over her shoulder at them as she walks towards her bed (don’t think about her in bed, Zuko chants to himself, don’t do it don’t do it don’t do it), Iroh turns to Zuko with his hands on his wide hips.

Iroh looks torn between exasperation and fondness. “I think you have some work ahead of you, nephew,” he comments lightly. “If you want to brew-”

“If you say  _ cup of love _ one more time, I will throw you into the Boiling Sea,” Zuko hisses before turning on his heel and marching away.

“Patience,” he mutters to himself. “I can be patient.”

He found the Avatar, damnit. He trained to become a master of fire and the blade. He found the last dragons. He waited and worked and bled and suffered for years to reclaim his honor. 

Zuko can  _ certainly  _ figure out how to talk to the girl he likes.

Definitely.

Maybe.

“Agni, help me.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Two posts tomorrow, and it is the ~smutty~ chapter
> 
> (okay, so chapter two actually posts on 6/18 -- turns out my mostly finished outline decided it wanted another 2500 words, and that's going to go up tomorrow. of course plot found its way into the porn)


	2. Steeping

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zuko and Katara's dynamic picks up ... steam.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HELLO!
> 
> I know I said this would be the smutty chapter but then it was like 5000 words of "plot development" blah blah blah and I still hadn't hit the sex scene that I wrote BEFORE I wrote the rest of this thing, soooo here's an intermediate chapter where they're just ridiculously horny for each other and Zuko's a clueless dummy?
> 
>  **warnings**  
>  Zuko's thoughts get a little ... fresh without warning at times. He is 21. He is very tired. He is very horny. 
> 
> Please, chapter 3, let Zuko get laid.

On Katara’s second day in the capital, Zuko only sees her briefly at breakfast before heading into a council meeting that lasts nearly four hours.

She had seemed uncomfortably warm in her fur-lined dress, and it’s all Zuko can think about as the Minister of Agriculture drones on and on and on and on about something about beef prices in the eastern islands. 

Admittedly, Zuko does care very much about beef prices, as well as the continuing economic factors of the Restoration Movement -- and, most of all, he cares about the defunding of Boiling Rock Prison.

But, Katara had been practically squirming in her dress, and she’d pulled up the hem in an attempt to cool down, inadvertently showing off skintight leggings, and now as Councilman Zekou talks very eloquently about the benefits of subsidizing education vouchers for children of military officers, Zuko’s mind wanders and wanders and _trips_ into the thought of pulling the leggings off of Katara.

He coughs into his sleeve, and all the councilmen stop talking at once to look at him.

“Fire Lord Z-”

“Continue.” Zuko fans his face with his hand, hoping that he’s discreet, but also knowing his face is currently a glowing beacon. “Apologies.”

“Here, Lord Zuko.” Iroh, seated at the place of honor at his right side, leans over to grab a teapot that’s been keeping warm. “Perhaps a refreshing cup of … tea.”

“Thank you, General Iroh,” Zuko says, nodding in thanks at his uncle. “Please, continue Councilman Zekou, but perhaps could you refocus on how this private academy might be of more use to our citizens than merely … putting more money into our public schools?”

“Of course.” Zekou bows and starts to talk about figures, and Zuko’s vision blurs because he mentions the word “water,” as in, they could build a new academy near to the water, but Zuko thinks about water, cool water, and blue eyes the color of water under a clear sky, and blue dresses -

Blue dresses puddled on the floor of his bedroom, looking like a pool of water in the moonlight --

Zuko chokes on his tea.

“Nephew!” Iroh pats his back and murmurs to him as Zekou comes to a stop again. “What has gotten into you?”

“Nothing.” Zuko nods at Zekou, who starts talking once more, uncertainly. “It’s just,” he whispers to Iroh, hoping no one cares that he’s muttering under a Councilman, “My mind is wandering. Hot day today.”

“Of course.” Iroh smirks though, and Zuko fights the urge to roll his eyes. “Did you drink enough … tea at breakfast?”

“Uncle.” Zuko’s teeth grind together, and his eyes remain locked on Zekou.

“Hydration is an important part of the day,” Iroh chides, amusement clear in his voice, “I would hate for you to be too thirsty.”

Zuko clears his throat and elbows his uncle under the table. Iroh harumphs and rubs his side, and Zuko manages to nod at all the right places in Zekou’s argument.

“I thank you, Councilman, for your time and valuable input,” he says, even though he really couldn’t care less about funding private schools when poor kids at the edges of his nation struggle to get books, “but perhaps we can take a brief recess before we come back for the second half of our meeting.”

After he walks away from the table, he grabs a servant as they pass by the doors to the council chamber. “Could you do me a favor?”

“Lord Zuko.” The servant bows. “I would be honored to-”

Right … he doesn’t have to necessarily ask anyone to do him a favor. Still, it feels like a polite thing to do.

“Could you send something to our visitor, Lady Katara? You’ll have to visit the seamstress.” 

The servant bows after he explains, and Zuko feels a hundred times less anxious when he returns to the table and listens to national issues for another aggravating hour.

It pays off at lunch when Katara’s arrival is announced; he and Iroh stand and wait for her to enter, and his heart skips a beat when she finally does.

She’s wearing a dress in the current style, cut high enough to reach the bottom of her neck, but with her shoulders showing. There are cut-outs at her waist, and Zuko swallows nervously when he wonders what it would feel like if he put his hands on the bare skin that shows there. The dress is dyed a dark red.

She looks good in red.

He’s especially pleased when she holds the sides of her skirts out and smiles. “You didn’t have to, Zuko.”

“Yes, I did.”

Uncle has told him many times that it is a bad idea to argue with a lady, especially one that you have a romantic interest in, but Katara doesn’t seem to mind this argument.

She settles on the cushions, still grinning, and their food is brought to the table; Zuko points out which foods are spicy, remembering how much she had squeaked four years ago when she ate the pepper flakes for the first time, and Katara carefully avoids eating those foods.

When the tea is done brewing, Zuko pours her a cup, and then his Uncle’s and finally his own. Zuko doesn’t miss the way Iroh smirks at him.

If he didn’t think Katara would notice, he’d set the hem of Iroh’s robes on fire. Nosy old man.

* * *

The next morning, Zuko greets Katara at her doors an hour after sunrise. He feels guilty because he’s clearly roused her from sleep; her hair is a tangled mess, and the curtains are still drawn when she opens the door.

“Sorry.” He stammers his way through an apology. “Sorry, I just - I-”

“You rise with the sun?” She asks teasingly, and he feels his face heat. 

“Yeah. Something like that.”

Katara yawns as she traipses across her room; after wrenching her curtains open, she turns to gesture for Zuko to come in.

“I’m guessing you have something to do with this?” She asks, settling at the vanity. 

There’s another dress, carefully laid out, waiting for her to try on.

“Maybe.” He takes a single step into her room and clasps his hands behind his back. “If that’s okay.”

“It’s more than okay. It’s way too nice.” Katara sighs as she runs her hands over the silk of the dress. “Although I’ve officially doubled the number of dresses I own since I got here.”

“Oh. Is it - is waterbending too difficult in a dress?” It hadn’t occurred to him -- he had only been thinking about how nice she looked in red. 

“No clue.” She shrugs. “I guess it could work -- it’s not that different from my tunics. I haven’t really had to bend since I got here.”

“Would you want to spar?” Zuko asks, brightening at the idea. 

Katara’s answering smile also looks fairly bright for someone who had probably contemplated regicide when he’d knocked on the door five minutes ago. 

“You don’t have another council meeting today?” She asks, grabbing the dress and holding it up to her curvy frame. 

Zuko’s eyes wander unhelpfully before he remembers to answer. “No. I … rescheduled it.”

At least, he will reschedule it. Agni, his assistant is going to hate him even more than usual.

“Hmm.” Katara’s eyes twinkle as she looks back over to him; his breath catches as the rising sun catches on her hair, bringing out the lighter highlights so it looks like she’s wreathed in light. “You’re on, Fire Lord.”

“Great.” Zuko nods and offers a weak smile. “Um. Before or after breakfast?”

“Before.” Katara yawns. “Kicking your ass will help me wake up.”

“Careful. In the right circles, that’d be considered treason.”

“I’m not your citizen,” Katara points out with a wicked grin. “So really, it would just be an assassination.”

Somehow, the implied threat makes him laugh, and of course it comes out as a snort. “Okay then. We’ll spar now.”

“Okay.” Katara fidgets when he doesn’t do anything. “Um. I kinda need to-” She holds the dress up.

“Oh!” He’s bright red again, he knows it. “Um - I’ll wait out- out here.” He bows, not sure what else to do, and practically throws himself backwards, back into the hall. 

Zuko pulls the doors shut behind him, and leans against them, groaning at himself.

“Idiot.” He shakes his head. “You just asked to _fight_ with her. Dumbass.”

After she dresses and joins him, he guides her through the palace, awkwardly explaining different portraits and architecture styles from the various additions to the structure.

“Where are your rooms?” Katara asks curiously, looking around as they pass the secondary council chamber.

“Closer to yours,” Zuko says honestly. “Back the way we came. You’re staying in one of the royal family suites.”

“Really?” Katara looks surprised, but she’s smiling which he counts as a good thing. “I didn’t know you thought that highly of me, Zuko.”

They’ve reached the doors to the training yard, so Zuko only has time to say one thing, and it probably shouldn’t be _if you want, you can have my rooms. With me in them. That’d be nice, right?_

He goes for honesty, but a less mortifying kind.

“I think the world of you, Katara.”

She ducks her head and avoids his eyes as he pushes the door open for her, but he can see the tips of her ears look flushed. 

_Is that patience enough for you, Uncle?_ He asks the calm voice of reason that sounds irritatingly like Iroh in his head.

All he gets back is a distant hum of ‘The Hero of Omashu.’

“How come we didn’t stay in those rooms the last time we were here?” Katara asks, having overcome her momentary shyness.

Zuko shrugs off his outer robe and hands it to a servant who seems to have appeared from nowhere. “Thank you,” he remembers to tell the servant.

(He hadn’t thanked one the last time Katara was here, and she dumped a bucket of water on his head for being rude; Zuko thinks about it often, and the memory always inspires him to be more grateful to the staff)

“Aang didn’t want to,” he tells Katara honestly, slightly wincing for mentioning her ex-boyfriend to her when he’s trying to … show that he can do boyfriend-like things with her.

Like kiss her. And hold her hand.

_And fuck her at sunrise so she’s trembling in his arms, draped against his chest as he whispers, “awake yet, sweetheart?”_

Zuko adjusts his trousers when Katara isn’t looking. If Agni could strike him down now, that’d be great. Thanks.

“Why didn’t Aang want to stay here?” Katara frowns. “Did you two have a fight before Sokka and I got here?”

“N-no.” Zuko shakes his head and then droops, sighing. “I mean. I guess we did. He was pushing for an immediate withdrawal of all Fire Nation descendants from the colonies in the Earth Kingdom, but there were too many families that had parents that were both Earth and Fire. I couldn’t separate them, so we had an argument,” she raises an eyebrow, so he corrects, “Okay, a fight, it was bad for about an hour, we burned down the southern armory,” both her eyebrows are up now, “and then we both got over it. But, he wasn’t comfortable staying here anymore.”

He fidgets as Katara turns her gaze on him, and he wonders what she sees in his face. 

She’s the only person who’s ever seen past his scar; around Katara, he’s usually optimistic that someone’s looking at his face and doesn’t outright hate what they see.

“He never told me,” she says softly after a long moment where he can hear his heart pound. “And you didn’t either.”

“I thought you knew.” Zuko rubs his neck. “I thought that’s why you … stayed away for so long.”

“I stayed away because…” Katara’s face falls and she shakes her head. “Never mind.”

“If I knew you were unaware, I would have told you. I know why Aang reacted the way he did-”

“Because he’s an idealist.” Katara wrinkles her nose and looks away. “He has these ideas that everyone needs to fit into, and if you don’t match those ideals, he thinks less of you.”

“I wouldn’t say…” Zuko trails off and winces. “Okay. Yeah. I would say.”

 _"You’re just like your father! Proud and foolish! You don't listen to anyone but yourself!"_ Aang’s angry roar still echoes in his ears; at one point, Aang had gone into the Avatar State.

As much as Zuko still cares for Aang, and still respects him - he doesn’t think he’ll ever forget the fear that his close friend was going to kill him.

He’s had enough of people he loves trying to kill him.

“I understand.” Katara laughs and twists the silk of her dress in her hands awkwardly. “Probably better than you know.”

Zuko remembers Aang at thirteen years old, trailing around after Katara like she’d hung the moon, stars, and sun.

To be fair, Zuko wouldn’t be _surprised_ if Katara told him that she’d encouraged the sun to rise this morning. But, he also knows she’s a human being. He knows what expectations can do to young women, how too high or too low of expectations can hurt a person.

(Most days, Azula doesn’t remember who he is; some days, she thinks they’re children again, and she lets him comb her hair and call her Zuli)

“Well that was his mistake,” Zuko says quietly, and Katara doesn’t look up from her study of the cobblestones. "You don’t have to meet anyone’s expectations, Katara. You’re your own person, and that person is pretty great.”

“Thanks. I know that now. But thanks.” She looks up at last, and then her expression shifts into the teasing wickedness that he’s seen flashes of.

She curls her hands, and Zuko has barely a split second of realization before water condenses out of thin air and rushes at him in a stream.

“Agni!” He curses as he dodges it, and crouches low, spinning to kick out a plume of flame at Katara, who leaps backwards into the fountain and throws a wall of water that quickly becomes ice.

He laughs as he disintegrates it into steam, and then, using a move he learned from her five years ago, Zuko moves his arms more fluidly, generating a spiral of fire that he pushes towards her.

They go back and forth for fifteen minutes, both of them panting with exertion, their bending flaring higher and higher under the steadily rising sun -- at one point, Katara pauses the fight to put out a fire Zuko’s started by accident on a low roof -- until their bending settles and becomes something more constant.

Zuko watches her arms, and he sees Katara’s eyes on his footwork, and the next thing he knows, she’s using her foot to send a blast of water at his head. He grins, sidestepping it -- she has less control of her element like that, considering it’s her first time trying the move -- and then he dodges in, going low to dodge her ice whip, and coming up with his hands sweeping to create a wave of fire.

Katara stumbles backwards towards the fountain to avoid being singed, spinning to try and catch herself, and Zuko cuts the fire out with a sharp movement and catches her around the waist with his right arm.

He hauls her up so her back is against his chest.

“Yield?”

Katara freezes his feet to the pavement; Zuko laughs and heats his feet up so the ice starts to melt. 

“Cheater-”

“I am not a cheater.” Katara laughs and pushes on his arm; he holds her tighter, hauling her in closer. “You’re the cheater, Mr. Honor Pants!”

“I haven’t been worried about my honor in five years, Katara.”

“You should be worried about it!” she threatens, but she looks over her shoulder at him, and her eyes are laughing. “Now, unhand me, and let me finish kicking your ass!”

“Hmm.” Zuko wraps his other arm around her and lifts her off the ground; Katara shrieks with laughter and kicks her feet out, and he begins to walk towards the fountain. “I don’t think so.”

“Zuko! Put! Me! Down!”

“You want me to put you down?” Zuko hums, as though he’s considering it. “Okay.”

“Zuko! Not _here_ , put me down over-”

Zuko drops her into the fountain with a splash, and she comes up indignantly soaked.

“I have mastered both fire and water,” Zuko says, sweeping into a bow and laughing. 

He stops laughing when Katara’s tiny hands fist in his under-tunic and hauls him into the water with her. Submerged a second later, Zuko resurfaces with a splutter to Katara’s peals of laughter.

Her hair is plastered to her face, and her dress is -

Well, it’s clinging.

He’s only human.

Zuko’s eyes linger longer than they should (and even though Zuko hasn’t thought too much about how his scar hinders him in years, he suddenly wishes he could fully see out of his left eye so that he could see _all_ of Katara, clearly), and they especially linger at the curve of her breasts, at the way her nipples are slightly visible now.

“You should see yourself,” Katara giggles, “Half-drowned Fire Lord-” She stops laughing when he forgets to laugh, and then she sees that he’s staring. “Um. Zu-”

“Sorry.” He stumbles in his haste to get out of the fountain - and how is his mouth so dry when everything else is so wet? - “I’m sorry. I’m really -”

His foot catches on the lip of the fountain, and Zuko goes crashing to the ground.

“Zuko, are you okay?” Katara sounds noticeably worried, and Zuko gets to his feet, cringing and doing a mental catalogue of his bumps and bruises.

“I’m fine, thanks. I’m - going to go - get breakfast. Yes. Food now.” Zuko nods without looking back and practically sprints from the training ground.

* * *

Zuko doesn’t _avoid_ Katara the rest of the day - they have breakfast, lunch, tea, and dinner together - but he only answers questions politely, and allows Uncle to control much of their conversations. Katara seems grateful to not have to talk to the creep who’d been ogling her, and Zuko wonders if he’ll ever live his mortification down.

After a sleepless night, Zuko resolves to do better, and he goes to see the royal seamstress an hour before the sun rises.

* * *

The next morning, Katara wakes up to a tunic and soft pants on her vanity, and no awkward Fire Lord is waiting at her door for her to try them on.

But, there is a single fire lily tucked in the string of the parcel.

She wears it in her hair all day, and Zuko walks around like a strutting peacock-pigeon.

* * *

For the rest of the week, Zuko and Katara practice sparring in the morning - never as physically close as they’d been that first, disastrous time - and he invites her to sit in on diplomatic councils. 

She’s brilliant, of course, and he’s sure half his advisors like her better than him by the end of the day.

They even catch a play at the end of her fifth day at the open-air theatre in the city. From up in their spot in the royal box, Katara yawns and shivers as the air shifts to a nighttime coolness, and to Zuko’s surprise, she burrows into his side.

“You’re so warm,” she whispers as the two lovers on stage fight about Agni knows what.

“Oh.” Zuko considers this, and looks around, his neck heating up painfully.

Iroh gives him a thumbs up, and he scowls at his uncle in the row behind them. His gaze travels to the guard at the door -- who _also_ gives him a thumbs up.

Gritting his teeth, Zuko turns his attention back to the stage -- “Look, a dragon,” Katara yawns again, pointing at the stage, “the one you found looked cooler,” and Zuko smiles down at her.

“Yeah.” He slowly shifts his arm, the left arm that she’d been leaning against. Katara blinks and tries to sit upright, so he moves faster.

Zuko wraps his arm around Katara without any kind of finesse in his haste to make sure she doesn’t pull fully away, and after a small pause that feels like sixteen thousand eternities, Katara settles back into his side, this time with her hand resting lightly on his stomach.

Now, he just needs to make sure he doesn’t combust.

It’s easy to ignore Katara’s light touch when Iroh leans forward and prods his right shoulder in excitement two dozen times. 

Zuko twists his fingers and is rewarded by a soft yelp of surprise when Iroh’s play pamphlet catches on fire.

“Hmm?” Katara starts to sit up, distracted by the noise.

“Shh. It’s nothing.” Zuko shifts his hand up and down Katara’s bare arm; she shrugs and settles back in.

She falls asleep before the end of the play. Normally, Zuko would be wildly offended if _anyone_ fell asleep during a play, especially a _great_ play like this one, but she’s snoring softly, and her hair smells like fire lilies, and she fits perfectly in his arms when he picks her up gently.

Katara doesn’t wake up until they’re in the palanquin, and when she jostles awake, Zuko manages to get her to fall back asleep, which means he gets to carry her into her rooms, Iroh a quiet shadow behind him.

She wakes up as they close the door behind them on the way out. “Goodnight,” she whispers. “Sorry for-”

“There is nothing to apologize for, Lady Katara,” Iroh says serenely. “Get some rest, and we will see you in the morning.”

Zuko walks down the hallway to his rooms, and he can tell Iroh is still following him.

“What is it, Uncle?”

“It is only-” Iroh sighs. “Lady Katara has one more night in the capitol, my son. I know I urged you to be patient, but … patience works better if one has more time. Perhaps you could ask her to stay a little longer?”

Zuko’s considered it. Hell, he wants her to stay. He’d beg if he thought she wanted to stay.

But, Katara had followed Aang for almost four years, helping him rebuild and also had spent her time helping her brother, helping her father, helping _everyone_. 

He could ask her to stay and help him - help him by just _existing,_ he wouldn’t care if her official position at court was “person who makes fun of Zuko all day so everyone can laugh at him,” which is definitely an image that forms a center point of a lot of his stress dreams. 

Zuko can’t ask her to put aside her own journey, whatever it might be, so that he can postpone saying goodbye to her, so that he can work up the courage to tell her how he feels. So, he shakes his head.

“No.” Zuko puts his hand on his door and offers Iroh a smile, albeit a sad one. “I couldn’t trap her here. No matter how much I-”

He cuts himself off, surprised by the words that had come so easily. Iroh doesn’t seem surprised.

“I find that communication works best when it is a two-way street.” He pats Zuko on the back as he passes him down the hallway. “But what do I know? I am just an old, elderly man.”

Zuko smiles at Iroh as he practically skips down the hallway, as spry as ever, and then lets himself into his rooms where he thinks quietly, for a long time.

* * *

For afternoon tea on Katara’s last day, Zuko brings her to his mother’s gardens, which have become his gardens.

“Oh!” Katara gasps when she sees the variety of blooms, a parade of colorful blossoms and fat vines. “It’s so lovely.”

“It is.” Zuko gestures to where tea has been set up for them. “Please, sit.”

Katara settles on a cushion, tucking her legs under her with her feet to the side, and Zuko sits down as well. He starts to prepare the tea - jasmine, per Uncle’s suggestion, to calm his own nerves - and they don’t speak for a few minutes as he starts the fire.

“Why didn’t you use bending?” Katara asks curiously.

“Because, it would get faster results - but worse ones,” Zuko explains. “Good tea comes from patience.”

“You sound like your uncle,” she teases, and he shrugs and nods quietly.

“I brought you here for a specific reason,” Zuko begins, his throat tightening as he pours Katara a cup of tea when it’s done steeping. “You see, I-”

He stops, unsure of how to say it. 

_I think I’m in love with you._

_I think I might have always been … about to be in love with you. And now, we have no reason for me to_ not _be in love with you. There’s no war, no Avatar, no ex-but-not-ex-girlfriend. There’s only us, and I want to kiss you until the world turns to ash -_

Okay, that’s a little intense.

“Zuko?” Katara fidgets with a bracelet on her wrist - a bauble he’d bought her, down at the marketplace, two days ago. “What is it?”

Zuko stares at her, taking all of Katara in, and his chest tightens.

Her hair falls in perfect waves over her shoulders, only part of it pulled back into a fashionable knot; her skin is dark and smooth, her eyes bluer than the summer sky overhead. Her figure, more womanly than his memories of adolescence, looks perfect in the cropped blouse and flared pants she wears. The entire world is before her, and she’ll make friends easily in any corner of it - she’s a healer, a warrior, a friend, a leader.

And he’s … Zuko. Scarred, awkward Zuko.

Katara is pretty, and kind, and good. And he feels suddenly defeated. 

“I-” Movement at the corner of his vision distracts him, and gives him a reprieve. “I wanted you to see something.”

“Oh?” Her nose wrinkles as she tilts her head curiously. “What would that be?”

“Some of my old friends.” He sets his cup down and stands, offering Katara his hand; she takes it without hesitation, and they walk to the edge of the pond where the family of turtleducks has made their appearance. “Hello, friends.”

“They’re so cute!” Katara kneels, uncaring about how the grass might stain her knees, and she holds a hand out to the smallest one at the front. “Oh, these are _so_ much cuter than penguins!”

“Careful, Sokka would call that blasphemy,” Zuko points out, and Katara shakes her head, grinning, her hand still in the water.

“She likes you,” Zuko notes as the tiniest bird nudges Katara’s hand. “But you need to hold your hand like - like this.” He extends his own hand, curling it slightly and dipping it into the water. 

Katara mimics him, but the turtleduck flocks to Zuko, swimming right into his palm. He smiles, and then Katara looks up at him, smiling herself. 

“Wow. They really trust you.”

“They’ve known me for a while.” Zuko shrugs. “They probably like me better than the last guy who ran this place, huh?”

 _Cheep cheep!_ is his answer, and while both his and Katara’s laugh sound a little sad, they can still laugh. He holds his hand up slightly so Katara can run her finger over the head of the turtleduck, marveling quietly at the bird’s soft down.

“Thank you,” Katara says suddenly, as Zuko lowers his hand back to the water; the turtleduck scoots away back to its mother, and he feels a pang of bittersweet nostalgia at the sight.

“For what?” He asks, drying his hand on his tunic. They both stand, and he turns his head to face Katara.

With a jolt, he realizes that he knelt at her right -- his scar had been facing her the whole time, and he hadn’t even thought about it. His entire life is spent subconsciously ducking his head or avoiding facing people on that side of himself -- but he hadn’t thought twice about showing that part of himself to her.

Katara studies his face though, her eyes traveling across both sides, never lingering in one place.

No. Her eyes _do_ linger somewhere, and his mouth goes dry. His tongue darts out to wet his bottom lip, and Katara still stares at his mouth.

“Katara? What is it?”

Without warning, she stands up on her toes and cups the back of his neck; Katara brings him down to her level, and Zuko ducks his head willingly, meeting her in the middle for a sweet, short kiss.

They break apart, Katara’s eyes wide. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to-”

Zuko grips her waist and pulls her in, kissing her in earnest this time. He buries one hand in her hair and licks at her bottom lip, desperate for more, drunk on it - and Katara squeaks, as though she’s in pain.

He stumbles back, mortified and regretful.

“I-”

“Fire Lord Zuko?” An attendant calls out. “You’re needed urgently in the throne room, sir.”

“I will be right there,” he promises, his face heating up. The attendant bows, and he directs his gaze back at Katara. “I-”

“We’ll talk later,” Katara whispers, one of her hands pushing on his stomach. “Go.”

Zuko nods, feeling nauseated, and then he rushes out of the courtyard to go see to whatever ridiculous Fire Lord nonsense that _better be really fucking important._

* * *

It isn’t that important, but it does take two hours, which means Zuko misses dinner with Katara and his uncle.

He kicks the obsidian throne on his way out, and then he’s contending with a bruised heart, _and_ a bruised toe.

Great.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> next chapter: "A Delicious Cup of Love."
> 
> No, really, they have a lot of sex next chapter. Like, 4000 words of sex. It's just going to be sex to make up for two non-sex chapters. I hope you forgive me. I will show myself the door in advance.
> 
> (Thank you for reading, and thanks to everyone who left comments/kudos on the last chapter!! It was very encouraging and I appreciate it!)


	3. A Cup of Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A perfectly brewed pot of tea for a delicious cup of love.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IT"S HEREEE
> 
> It's just 6000 words of smut and pointless feels/fluff
> 
> The **smut tags** in case there's anything that squicks ya!  
> *male on female oral sex + manual stimulation  
> *penetrative vaginal sex + one-sided loss of virginity  
> *"pulling out" in lieu of proper birth control

* * *

Zuko doesn’t know what he expected.

It’s not like he’s particularly used to getting his way -- but  _ no.  _ He  _ is  _ now, and maybe that’s the problem.

His father is imprisoned; his sister, while still lost, shows improvement here and there - her doctors think she might soon be able to try bending again, which he understands will make her feel more like herself. His uncle is healthy and happy, and comes and goes as he pleases as he makes the most of his retirement from politics and war.

Zuko is the fucking Fire Lord, honor restored and intact, and minus a few assassination attempts here and there, his life has become an idyllic opposite to those three painful, traumatic years that formed his early adolescence.

He doesn’t think his suffering in the past means he’s  _ owed  _ Katara and her affections. She’s a person, after all. An independent, fierce, powerful,  _ wonderful  _ person. It would be selfish and petty and pathetic of him to pout for a second because his  _ last  _ chance to tell her how he felt had ended so abruptly after he practically forced her to kiss him.

_ But she kissed you first,  _ the part of his brain that’s still capable of rationality tries to soothe him as he sweeps back and forth in his chambers. He drags his hands through his hair -- unbound, now, but damp with sweat from this wretched anxiety.  _ She kissed you first. _

Zuko rests his head on the bedpost that towers over his bed; tangling his hands in the draped canopy fabric, he groans, eyes squeezed shut, as he tries to kick the thought of what Katara’s lips felt like out of his head.

“She leaves tomorrow,” he tells himself hollowly, shaking his head. “She leaves, tomorrow.”

He abandons the bedpost in favor of settling on the mattress, and he rubs at his temples, shaking his head. “She leaves tomorrow,” Zuko whispers to himself, a horrible aching in his chest. 

How had she done this so quickly, he wonders. How had she slipped into his life for less than a full week and made herself so  _ important  _ to the rest of it.

The answer is glaringly obvious. It’s because she’s always been important. 

He hadn’t groveled to just anyone in his attempts to redeem himself -- it had been Katara’s forgiveness he longed for. It wasn’t just anyone who he’d let touch his scar in those days -- and even now, she’s the one who can approach him from behind, who can touch his ruined cheek and make him smile and not flinch. 

It wasn’t just  _ anyone  _ he’d dove in front of lightning for -- and it seems, somewhere in the process of restarting his heart, she’d put her mark, clear and indelible, on whatever stuff his heart was made of.

Zuko sighs and checks the sky - remnants of the sun linger in the west, and purple light drapes hazy over Caldera City. His hands ball into fists, and he swallows sharply.

“She leaves tomorrow,” he reminds himself, and his good eye widens fully as he stands up and starts to move. “I need to-”

He’ll tell her, he reasons, he’ll tell her  _ once,  _ and hopefully she’ll understand that he means forever, and maybe she’ll let him kiss her again, or maybe she’ll throw him off the balcony - but he can tell her. He’s allowed to do that much.

He thinks.

Zuko wrenches his door open, heart pounding - and then his heart stops.

Katara’s outside his door, her hand raised as though to knock. They stare at each other for a long moment.

“I was coming to-” she begins.

“I was wondering if-” he starts at the same time.

“Oh.” Katara blushes and drops her arm, folding her hands together. “You go first.”

“No, you go,” Zuko argues, and she lifts an eyebrow while smirking at his childishness. He sighs and drags a hand through his hair. “Fine. I was - wondering if you wanted some tea?”

“Some tea,” Katara repeats. She stares at him, and he offers her an awkward smile, hoping for the best. 

And then she explodes. “Tea?” She says furiously, jabbing her finger at him -- even though she’s three feet away, he still leaps back. That makes her expression soften, and her next words are quieter, even if she hisses them.

“Tea?” She repeats. “You kiss me! Like no one else has  _ ever  _ kissed me - and then run away and do your Fire Lord things or whatever -- and then! I come here, at  _ dark,  _ to -- and you’re going to offer me  _ tea _ ?”

Somewhere in her diatribe, Zuko takes some steps backwards, and she follows him forward until she crosses the threshold of his room.

Katara’s in his room.

And it is dark outside.

And it’s a private room.

Zuko’s brain shuts down for a second, and he barely hears Katara say:

“I do  _ not  _ want tea, Zuko! Not at all!”

“What do you want then?” Zuko asks, feeling slightly helpless. She stares at him in disbelief, and that’s not exactly helpful. “Tell me what you want, Katara. Please. Because I know what I want, and I can’t … not unless I know what you want.”

“I came here to see if …” Katara falters, and it’s a rare instance where she looks unsure of herself. She twists her hands together, mouth half-open as though to speak, and she looks out the window over the city before she clears her throat and frowns, clearly determined. “I want you to kiss me. Again.”

Zuko’s hands twitch. “Oh.” He hadn’t thought she’d ask him to -- 

His brain comes roaring back to life. 

“You do?” He checks, taking a step towards her. “In the courtyard, I thought I had scared you-”

“Scared me,” Katara scoffs, crossing her arms and tilting her head back to glare at him. He looks down at her, awestruck.

It’s a fairly normal meeting for them, then.

“That didn’t scare me.” 

She’s trembling, though, and Zuko reaches out slowly -- convinced he tripped coming off the throne today and smashed his head in, resulting in a concussion and this admittedly very kind hallucination -- to touch her bare arm. “You seem scared,” he whispers.

“I’m not,” Katara contests hotly, but then her expression falters and splinters into vulnerability. “At least. I’m not scared of  _ you _ .”

“What are you scared of?” Zuko asks. “Because I’m scared of a thousand things-”

“I’m scared because,” Katara shakes her head and looks away again before her massive eyes return to his face, “because I think if I leave tomorrow, I’ll have never -- and, I’m scared because … because you’re the first person that I feel like this with.”

She hasn’t given any straight answers, but Zuko doesn’t think he’s stupid enough that he’s misunderstanding her.

“And when I kissed you?”

“I was scared because I … I wanted more.” Katara speaks carefully, as though afraid of -

Afraid of her own desire.

Oh.

_ Oh. _

It comes crashing back to him, the reality that Katara grew up in -- the only girl her age, a caretaker, someone who was trained to put others first, someone who was always taught duty before self.

And then, when she met her sister tribe, she was told she couldn’t train as a warrior; whatever shitty thoughts about girls and expectations and duty the Northerners had shared with her had undoubtedly left some kernel of doubt. 

For a moment, his mind glances on the question of how she’d expressed sexual desire to Aang, who had put her so high up on a pedestal that airbending was the only way to reach her --

But his brain shies away quickly enough from the thought: he doesn’t really want to think about pesky bald monks when he’s about to -- when he thinks he’s about to --

“Katara.” Zuko inhales shakily. “I’ve wanted you every second since you got off the ship.”

“Wanted me? Wanted me to what?” Her eyes widen. “Oh, like-”

“Like that,” Zuko confirms, smiling. He brings his other hand up to touch her other arm, and then smooths his hands out until he’s loosely gripping both her arms. His thumbs rub uncertain circles into her skin -- only uncertain because he isn’t sure if she welcomes the touch.

Judging by the way her breath hitches and she steps in closer to him, somehow, Zuko has a feeling she’s okay with it.

_ Can I really have this, too?  _ He asks himself, shocked at her boldness in coming here (well, not shocked that Katara would be bold -- more shocked that she’d be bold in coming here for  _ him _ ).

“Is that okay?” He asks, and he’s checking for more than just the way he’s touching her at the moment.

Katara rolls her eyes. “Zuko, I just asked you to kiss me - which you haven’t even done yet-”

“But,” Zuko laughs rustily. “Katara, I also wanted more. In the courtyard, and now - I want to-”

“Then kiss me.” She grips his robes and hauls him in, and it’s her fire that threatens to consume him (when all his nightmares show him the opposite). 

He releases her arms to tangle a hand in her hair, her magnificent, beautiful hair that still smells of fire lilies. His other arm wraps around her back to pull her in closer to him, and in the second before their lips meet, Zuko’s aware that if the courtyard wasn’t it, this might be the place they can’t turn back from.

Zuko doesn’t want to turn back.

And, judging by the way Katara gasps and returns his kiss, she doesn’t want to either.

He goes slower this time, more patient than he’d been earlier; Zuko focuses on her plush lower lip, dragging his tongue along it with a pace that he knows would infuriate himself -- and, ever observant, Katara repeats the motion a few seconds later, confirming his suspicions.

It does drive him more wild - he scratches her scalp with his blunt nails as he sucks in a ragged breath, and that only makes Katara arch her back and press into him more. 

“Zuko,” Katara looks up at him, and he can’t even begin to read her expression. “Zuko, I want-”

“I do too,” he admits with a shaky laugh. “Agni, I want you.”

The next kiss is dizzying, and his hands find the cut-outs of her dress -  _ did she wear it for this reason,  _ he wonders - and he groans at the feeling of so much of her skin under his palms.

Her own hands are mapping out his chest and stomach, and she hums appreciatively when they pull away from the kiss, her eyes going to his torso. 

“What?” Zuko asks, half-grinning at the open desire in her face.

Then, she looks up, and it feels like he’s staring into the sun.

Her hands move to push open his robes, and Zuko helps her, shrugging it off when it’s hanging from his shoulders; it pools behind him, leaving him only in his short-sleeved tunic. Her hands move to his belt next, and he lets her untangle the knot, her fingers more deft than his could be, given how his hands have started to shake.

Then, she tugs on the hem, and Zuko smiles and pulls on the back of his collar, lifting the shirt up and over his head - he tosses it aside and stands before her in only his pants, his bare feet curling into the plush carpet of his bedroom.

If he were more ungrateful, he’d be cross that she was still wearing her dress when he was half-naked. But, Katara’s staring at him in a way that makes him feel bizarrely wanted, and he finds that it makes it hard to form any thought beyond her name.

No one’s ever looked at him like this.

“Katara.” He says her name softly, but even he can hear the hidden flames in it. His hands go to her hair, and he runs his fingers through the waves that have turned to almost curls in the humidity - he’s glad she isn’t wearing it up. 

He’s always loved her hair.

In response, Katara reaches out slowly, and Zuko closes his eyes and inhales sharply when her hand touches his bare stomach. His eyes open again when he realizes what she’s touching -

Her hand is flat against the starburst of scar tissue he carries, right below his heart. 

Katara’s expression is crossed with grief, with gratitude, with something he’s afraid to name because it might just be a mirror of his own feelings that he’s projecting.

“Does it hurt?” She asks, her voice frayed as though she can’t bear to hear the answer.

Zuko covers her hand with his own, his fingers curling around her wrist and palm. “Not anymore,” he says, pulling her hand up to kiss her palm. “Not now.”

The next time she kisses him, he can feel a hunger that wasn’t there before -- he’s felt it before with fire, learning to control his bending. Fire is always hungry. It needs something to feed it - and in the last few minutes, the flame burning between them has only been fed.

Zuko decides that if Katara wants to consume him, entirely, he wouldn’t be able to complain.

His hands curl loosely around her wrists as she holds him in place, kissing him with more and more demand in her lips, and she whispers his name against his mouth - and that does it.

What’s left of his restraint snaps, and Zuko picks her up by grabbing the back of her thighs and hauling her up. He carries her to the bed and lowers her carefully, still kissing her when he can, when he doesn’t think he’ll elbow her in the face by accident, and Katara tugs him back in to keep kissing her.

His feet are still on the ground, which makes it a little awkward, but she feels so small underneath him -- small, but powerful -- and her hips roll against his now as she takes him into the cradle of her legs. Zuko’s brain is essentially a lost cause at this point, and the only words he can form are half-formed babbles of her name and  _ please. _

When he’s satisfied himself by kissing her neck and her shoulders and the small amount of stomach that shows in her dress, he stands up and looks at her, really looks at her, stretched out on his bed.

He can’t lie and deny that he feels possessive in this moment -- but there’s something more powerful there, something intoxicating and humbling all at once.

“Katara,” He says softly, and she surprises him once more by sitting up slowly and unbuttoning the fastening that holds up the collar of her dress.

The fabric pools around her waist, falling open like the petals of a flower, and Zuko makes a noise that he’ll be embarrassed by in the morning.

“Katara,” he repeats, choked now, and he falls to his knees and stares up at her, wrapping his hands around her firm calves. He kisses her left calf first, and Katara jerks her leg away, gasping in surprise.

“Bad?” He retreats immediately, but Katara shakes her head.

“It’s … it’s good.” She blushes, and he’s interested to see that it looks like even her chest flushes when she does. Zuko stares at her breasts openly for a second before he remembers why he’s down here.

“Good, like I should … keep going?”

Katara’s foot is shaking in his hand, but she nods, and he returns to kissing first her left leg, and then her second, his hands sliding up to stroke her thighs and push the fabric of her dress higher.

Her eyes are heavy when he looks up, his hands slipping under her skirt. It feels like it should swallow him whole, the vulnerability that rocks through him -- but he welcomes it.

Zuko’s been burned alive before. This fire doesn’t bring fear, or pain. Only a steady need for more, and more, and more of her. Katara helps him pull her skirts out of the way, and she doesn’t stop when he hooks his fingers into the band of her undergarments; his own breath staggers out of him, a limping, bruised thing, when he pulls them down her legs.

Katara’s foot braces on his stomach and catches for a moment before sliding free as her legs fall open; Zuko reaches down to his own leg for a second and pinches -- he isn’t dreaming.

“What are you thinking?” He asks, rolling his thumbs into flesh that’s both firm and soft.

Katara gasps slightly, her lips parted as he gazes up at her.

“I-I’m thinking -- what would your people say,” she murmurs as he slides his open mouth along her calf, “if they saw you on your knees for me?”

Zuko chuckles as her breath skips - he traces a pattern with his tongue before answering. “I don’t think anyone would be surprised.”

He meets her eyes when he rests his unruined cheek on her thigh, his long fingers gripping her leg and pushing so he has more room. Katara moves with him, unresisting, and slips a finger along the edge of his scar before slipping her hand into his long hair. 

“What do you want, Firelord?” She asks him imperiously.

“You,” Zuko answers, almost miserable with it. 

“And?”

“Just you.” He kisses the inside of her thigh, shiver soft, and Katara moans while lowering herself to her elbows. 

She lets him hook a leg over his shoulder, and he lets his hot breath wash over her. “Zu-”

“Tell me I can,” he pleads, “Let me-”

“Yes.” She closes her eyes and her back arches off the mattress involuntarily as he licks, a little too eager, a little too sharp, over her clit. “Ow-”

“Sorry.” His next kiss is an apology, to the very center of her; his tongue slips between her folds, and he drinks eagerly. 

Dizzy, he wonders if it’s his imagination that she tastes like the jasmine tea he served her at breakfast.

Zuko whispers, “You taste good, Katara,” and she shivers again, a moan slipping from her open mouth.

A half-growl tears from his mouth when he realizes that she’s clenching on nothing. It’s confirmed when she whimpers; so, he hums sympathetically, a heated finger brushing against her.

“I’d like to-”

“I want you to,” she answers breathlessly before he can finish the question. 

It’s been a long time since he’s done something like this, but at least one nice part of being royalty means that he gets frequent nail trimmings -- Zuko has no doubts Katara would drown him in the toilet if his nails were rough. He smiles at the thought, even as he drags his finger along her lips and then slowly slips inside.

His vision goes dark at the corners as the realization hits him that he’s actually inside Katara, his friend Katara, master waterbender Katara, the just and kind Katara -- and he freezes for a few seconds.

“It doesn’t hurt.” Katara squirms slightly from her place on the bed. “You can - you can keep going. I’ve had bigger things th-”

“Okay. That’s - that’s enough of--” Zuko leans in to lick around his finger and twists his hand so his palm faces the ceiling; he might dedicate himself a little more ferociously than normal, proud to hear Katara’s gasps and squeaks and moans -- those are his favorite, her sweet, bitten-off moans -- and even prouder when she digs her hands into his hair and holds him to her.

“More, more, more,” she chants, her back arching again; Zuko can feel her small feet scrabbling at his back and shoulders, and he grins even as he slips a second finger in and rubs a little harder, pulling his face back so he can roll his thumb over her now swollen clit.

With a gasp and a hand clapped to her mouth, Katara comes suddenly. Zuko feels his own cock aching at the sight of her, partly wrapped in her crumpled dress, her perfect tits shaking as her body undulates with each wave of her orgasm. He stills his fingers and keeps moving his thumb, curious to see how much more wet she can get -- when she grabs his wrist with a shaking hand, he pulls out, popping his fingers into his mouth and sucking when she finally looks at him, her mouth open.

“Tell me that  _ that  _ wasn’t some kind of …” she takes an unsteady breath, “weird Fire Lord etiquette lesson you had to memorize-”

Zuko laughs and lightly tickles her thighs, which makes her pull her knees up, giggling. Then, she sighs through her nose, no doubt from an aftershock. It’s with a smug smile that he stands and offers her a hand, hauling her up to her feet so he can kiss her.

“Wait, sorry, sorry.” He makes a face. “I should go -- clean my face-”

“What?” Katara shakes her head, eyes still heavy with pleasure. “Why would I care about that?” She tilts her pretty face up for another kiss, and Zuko lets himself float in it, Katara’s hands cool and gentle on his bare skin. 

Then, her hands slide south curiously, and he pulls back from the kiss to smile down at her.

“I want to…” Katara teases at his waistband, and Zuko nods. He gasps a second later when her hand wraps around his erection from the outside of his pants. 

Katara traces the outline of his cock, her eyebrows lifted as she thinks through something.

“What?” Zuko makes himself laugh, but the noise is mostly air. “What’s-”

“Impressive.” Katara’s eyes are slightly wider now as she lets her fingers drift up and down his shaft over the fabric. “That’s-- impressive.”

“Mrrgh.” Zuko says eloquently.

Katara laughs and then they work to shove his pants down his narrow hips, which thankfully takes no time at all, and then Katara’s dress joins the pile of his clothing.

Their bodies feel right together, Zuko thinks deliriously. Her breasts are pressed against his chest, and he skims his hands up and down her sides, his thumbs rolling over the swell of her breasts. His cock is hot where it’s trapped between their bodies, and while he certainly wants to move forward, he likes this moment where they hold each other, Katara leaning up to nuzzle kisses into his neck. 

He doesn't know who pulls who down to the bed, but they end up there together, and they kiss side by side, his fingers mapping a lazy path between her breasts and down her stomach. When neither of them progress any further though, he realizes there’s a strange hesitance to Katara’s touch, a tension he’d missed while he was so focused on her beauty and her warmth in his bed.

“What is it?” He whispers, pulling away. His hand leaves its current place at her hip and moves to her hair; Zuko strokes a curl behind Katara’s ear and cups her cheek delicately.

Her blue eyes swallow him whole.

“Is it okay if I’ve never done this before?” Katara asks shyly, pink creeping into her flushed cheeks.

“Yes.” Zuko replaces his hand with his mouth; he kisses her forehead, her nose, her cheeks. He even dodges to kiss her chin, and he can hear her laugh softly. “We also don’t have to do this … now, if you don’t want to.”

This is already a thousand times more than he ever could have expected -- considering he was contemplating feeding himself to a dragon to get over how much he feels for her.

Katara shakes her head though, and accepts his next kiss on her lips. She sighs against his mouth and then smiles. “...Have you ever … done this?”

Zuko doesn’t feel any regret for saying, “Yes.” Her expression doesn’t falter, but a flare of nerves in his stomach has him ask, “Does that bother you?”

She shakes her head again. “No. It doesn’t.”

Even though they’re in the privacy of his rooms, they’re both whispering. 

Zuko likes that they’re whispering. It makes this feel like it’s just theirs. Like there’s a spell over them, like a spell from the stories he heard as a child -- and if they talk too loudly, they might break it.

Katara kisses him while he’s contemplating this strangely easy happiness, and he kisses her back without thinking. Distantly, he knows the old reasons to not do this sort of exist: she’s about to leave, he has to stay here, she has a life, his entire life would be hers if she asked (and she isn’t going to ask).

But when he kisses her, he doesn’t think about that.

“If you want to do this,” he begins, but Katara surprises him by planting her hand on his chest and shoving him lightly so he falls to his back on the bed. “Oh?” He asks, his cock twitching in response. 

Katara sees the small movement, and she grins, a sharp, sweet thing. 

“That’s nice.” She reaches out to stroke him, and Zuko feels his balls tighten and toes curl so he shakes his head. 

“I might… this will be over before it starts if you do that.”  _ He won’t be embarrassed, he won’t be embarrassed.  _ “I just -- you’re so pretty.”

“You’re sweet.” Katara swings her leg over him and lowers herself down, her wetness rubbing against his cock and shocking him. He makes a strangled noise, and Katara shivers and laughs before repeating the motion.

“That’s -” She nods, and then moans in her throat. “I like that.”

“I like it too.” 

Zuko reaches up and tucks her hair behind her ears before letting his hands trail down her neck to her chest; he teases her nipples lightly while she rocks against him experimentally, and he focuses on the weight of her breasts in his hands and not so much the way she feels against him.

“I think I’m -- if you are,” Katara sounds so nervous, and he feels her shaking.

He takes her hands where they’re planted against his stomach, and brings each up to his lips in turn to kiss her fingers. “We don’t have to.” She rocks her hips again in answer, and his own hips tilt up in response, making them both gasp. “But I’m -- yeah. I’m --  _ fuck,  _ Katara.”

His brain is at the point where he slurs the last two words together, but she doesn’t seem to care. Katara reaches behind her and sits up slightly, fumbling awkwardly with trying to line up his cock with herself -- Zuko tries to help, and they end up poking at each other, both of them hissing and then laughing.

“Still okay?” He asks her, once he’s got a hand around his cock and another hand at her hip to help her balance.

“Mhm.” Katara’s hand is wrapped around his, and her face is screwed up in concentration like it always does when she’s trying a new move in bending. “I - I think I-”

“Ow,” Zuko says dully when Katara squeezes him a little too tightly. She looks worried immediately, so he shakes his head. “It’s fine.”

She nods one more time, and after a few more struggles where her hisses of discomfort tell him he definitely is somehow stabbing her with his dick -- and the two of them, him and his dick, are going to have  _ words  _ later, for stabbing Katara -- she manages to notch the sensitive head of his cock into her body.

With a relieved sigh, Zuko tilts his hips up slowly, bringing his hand up to grasp the other side of her waist so he can fully help her lower herself down at her pace. Katara’s eyes squeeze shut a few times, and he’s about to suggest rocking herself slowly down onto him when she frowns and pushes down hard, until he’s fully inside her.

“Guh - Aaaaaagni-” He isn’t proud to say that he writhes a little, his hands spasming on Katara’s sides as he tries not to move at all.

Neither of them move at all for almost fifteen seconds, but at one point, Katara squeezes down on him, clearly testing that out, and Zuko thinks he’s swallowed his tongue. Katara tries to lean forward to kiss him, but then mutters, “shit, that feels weird,” so she settles for stroking his hair out of his face.

He doesn’t mind that - it’s tender, and nice, and makes him feel safe. 

“What do I do now?” Katara asks, moving slightly. Zuko’s sure she’s leaving here with his soul in her hands.

“That’s fine,” he says quickly. “Or just -- you can sit up and,” he pushes her hips back and forth demonstratively and moans in his throat. “That. If that feels nice -- just-- whatever feels nice for you. And I’ll - it’ll feel okay for me-”

“Okay.” Katara picks herself up off his cock, the drag making him yelp, and pushes herself down with almost as much force as before.

“You can - you can go slower.” Zuko fights the urge to come right then and there. “It’s about patience, and letting it happen, and-”

“We aren’t making a fucking pot of tea,” Katara grumbles, but she does go slow. After a while, she does lean forward until she's lying across his chest, and Zuko takes up the effort of moving for both of them; he tries his hardest to not go too fast, and focuses on the feeling of Katara’s perfect ass in his hands, her breasts crushed to his chest, the sweet kisses she whispers into his collarbone. 

“Y’know, m’okay if we’re a little less patient, if you want to be less patient” Katara whispers after a few minutes like this, and Zuko laughs.

“I’ve been patient … oh, four years now?” Zuko kisses the top of her head and rocks his hips into hers with more force but keeping his pace. “I can stand to be patient for a little longer.”

She meets him halfway down his next thrust, and grips his shoulders so she can sit up slightly -- it improves the angle immensely, and Zuko feels his self-control start to slip; he grits his teeth and clings to that self-control as tightly as he can.

Then, Katara touches herself, her hand going to her clit as her eyes screw shut, and her high-pitched moan, combined with the way she clenches around his cock, makes him moan her name. They gasp together, and he has a ridiculous, delirious thought -

_ This must be the cup of love that Uncle was talking about.  _

Zuko laughs and wrinkles his nose, shaking his head to clear the thought of anything involving Iroh at the moment. Katara mistakes his laugh for one at her expense and scowls. 

“What’s so funny, huh?” She puts her hands on his chest and moves with more force. “I’m the one doing all the work-”

“I can fix that,” Zuko grumbles, “Let’s just-”

Somehow, somehow, they manage to switch positions, and Katara only elbows him in the cheek twice (the nose once). Once he’s back inside Katara -- and that’s something that’s going to get him through the rest of his life, the idea that he’s  _ actually inside her  _ \- he fucks into her gently, but quicker than before.

Katara grips his shoulders and watches him, mouth open, so he leans down and kisses her nose awkwardly. His hair falls into her face, which makes her laugh and pause the kiss to push it out of his face before she moves her hands to the small of his back, and then lower to grip his ass as he thrusts inside her, pushing him deeper inside as she spreads her legs on some kind of instinct that has Zuko moaning.

“Shit,” He shakes himself, and pulls away, pulling out. “Oh, shit shit-” He moans again, almost shaking enough to split in half, and comes into his fist, turned away from Katara so she won’t have to deal with his seed all over her.

_ That’s a mental image he won’t soon forget - _

Katara puts her foot on his thigh while he finishes, and Zuko smears his hand on a blanket, telling himself he’ll personally wash his sheets in the morning so he doesn’t have to face the servants. 

“Why’d you do that?” Katara asks sleepily, looking up at him from the pillows. 

Zuko stares at her, committing the sight to memory, before answering. “I … I assumed you didn’t want … a baby?”

Katara snorts, actually snorts at him - the kind of fucked-out laugh that he’d never expected to hear from a girl who once threatened to kill him if he hurt her friends.

“They make a tea for that,” she tells him, still laughing. She curls her toes into Zuko’s thigh, and he grabs her ankle with his clean hand. “I’m sure your uncle would brew us a pot-”

Zuko slumps over her, nuzzling into her soft stomach. “Please,  _ please,  _ for the love of Agni, do  _ not  _ talk to my uncle about …  _ sex tea,  _ please.”

Katara giggles, a miraculous noise, and Zuko hides his smile in her stomach before turning to look at her. She puts her hand back in his hair and scratches at his scalp; he wonders if he looks like a contented panther-dog, sated and curled up against her, eyes closing in bliss as she touches him with more gentleness than he can remember from his lifetime.

Eventually, she bends some water from the basin to clean his hands and the inside of her thighs, and he manages to drag his heavy body up the bed to hold her properly with him against the pillows, and her cradled to his chest.

That’s all they do in that drowsy hour, their skin cooling -- well, Katara’s skin cooling, Zuko’s skin returning to the normal kind of warm -- and it’s Katara who breaks the silence with a sudden question.

“Earlier.” Zuko doesn’t pause from where he’s drawing looping designs onto her back, but he does stop kissing her hair so he can hear her better. “Earlier, you said you were scared of a thousand things.”

“Yeah.” 

Katara rubs her nose against his chest, and he smiles a little, even if his awareness of time tells him that theirs is running out.

“What are you scared of, Zuko?” She pulls away slightly to look at him, and Zuko runs his fingers through her hair, frowning. “You’re one of the most powerful benders alive, and the Fire Lord. What could scare you?”

“Someone hurting the people I love,” Zuko whispers, and Katara looks away for a second shyly. “Or me hurting the people I love. And … well, earlier, I meant.” He shakes his head and closes his eyes; he doesn’t open them until he feels her trace the edge of his scar, right on the boundary of what he can still feel there.

“What?” Katara asks, and she’s so lovely in the darkness, her eyes the brightest thing in the room, that he can’t lie to her.

“I wasn’t going to tell you how I felt. That I wanted you. Because.” Zuko bites his lip for a second before adding, “I was scared that I can’t keep you.”

“What does that mean?” Katara frowns. “Keep me? Like, keep me here? Forever?”

“That’s the idea.” Zuko laughs awkwardly. “Not as a prisoner, obviously. Just. I meant more of … you’re leaving in the morning, and I … and I’m not sure what I’ll do when you’re gone. And that scares me.”

“I’ve only been here a week,” Katara points out. “I think you’ll figure it out.”

“That’s just it.” Zuko runs his thumb along the small dimple in her cheek, and she kisses his thumb quickly. He smiles, and he can tell it’s a sad smile. “You were only here a week, and I won’t know what to do with myself with you gone so soon. I know it’s sudden, but …” He shrugs. “I don’t know how to explain it.”

“You could try.”

“I could,” he agrees. “But we’d have to be here a lot longer than tonight.”

“Okay.” Katara leans back into his chest and rests her cheek over his heart. “So ask me to stay.”

“What?” She has to hear his heart pound suddenly under her ear. 

“Ask me to stay,” Katara whispers, and Zuko’s hands are shaking again as he trails his fingers along her bare back.

“Stay,” he murmurs. “Please, stay with me.”

“You can do better than that.” 

She’s teasing him; it makes his lips quirk up into a half-smile.

“Lady Katara, of the Southern Water Tribe, daughter of the esteemed Chief Hak-ow!” She’s poked him in the ribs, and they both laugh for a second. “Katara, I … I really care about you, and I know it’s confusing, and I probably did this the wrong way, but I want you to stay here. As long as you want to be here.”

“Okay.” Katara nods and kisses his chest without lifting her head. “I’ll stay.”

“You will?” He grins at his ceiling. “You’ll stay?”

“Mhm.” She hums when his hands return to her hair, and he works on gently untangling all the knots caused by their previous activities.

He’s caught off-guard when she asks another question, suddenly.

“Zuko. Does this … what’s happening with us … does it have any kind of a good ending?  _ Can  _ it?”

Zuko’s hands still in her hair.

He thinks about Avatars and royal families, about duty and honor and responsibility; he thinks about broken hearts and years of trauma and how love is sometimes not enough to save a person.

But, he also thinks about blue eyes and interesting conversation and soft touches and hair that smells like fire lilies and a person who’s always inspired him to do better, even if it meant she’s had to challenge him a few times.

He kisses the top of her head before answering. “I don’t know. But I like the beginning either way.”

She pulls his arm tighter around her and nods. “Me too.”

They quietly watch the moon rise and don’t say another word.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THANK YOU FOR READING what a fun smaller project this was! I had to get some E rated Zutara out of the way before I finished the T rated WIP.
> 
> Anyway, I have definite _ideas_ for how a chapter 4 (and 5 and 6) would go with a return of Aang and Zuko struggling to argue for a marriage to a non-Firebender (also he sort of hasn’t told her he’s in love with her yet and that’s on purpose), but for now, thank you for reading this small smutfest, and I hope you enjoyed.
> 
> Please let me know what you thought about these chapters/think about future chapters, and haaaaappy Friday!


	4. Herbal Tea

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With Katara extending her visit, Zuko has to consider their future (and Iroh has some of his own suggestions)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HELLO and PLEASE forgive me for adding onto this fic that was supposed to be a shorter fic but now it has plot and it wouldn't leave me alone.
> 
> ANYWAY
> 
>  **warnings**  
>  Lots of implied sex  
> References to canonical genocide  
> Zuko struggling with guilt (and the repercussions of his own PTSD)  
> Frequent conversations about and references to contraceptives (and basically the tea version of the "morning after pill"//birth control pill)  
> And, a "meditation" scene that's really just an excuse to get them physically close together (neither of them are really attempting to "meditate" but that's the framing of it)

Agni rises once more, and Zuko feels the power rush through his veins as he inhales lightly; from his seat on the floor, he can see the sunrise through the large window of his suite.

He rolls his head back on the mattress, humming in his throat as familiar fingers slip through his long hair, untangling knots with a soothing gentleness.

“You don’t have to do that.” He yawns sharply, lazily turning his head to smile at the woman still reclining in bed. “I can ask a servant.”

“Why bother them to do something when I like doing it?” Katara rolls onto her side and continues to slip her fingers through his hair; she starts at his scalp and pulls her hand gently through his curtain of hair which spreads out behind him like a dragon’s tail. “Unless you want me to stop?”

He whines a little when she pretends to pull her hand away; Zuko’s rewarded by a soft laugh for the slightly embarrassing noise, as well as the return of Katara’s fingers to his hair.

“You’re acting like a big old polar-leopard,” Katara teases.

Zuko hums and then manages to produce a rumble that passes for a purr. He gets another giggle for the trouble, and his own smile stretches across his face as he studies Katara’s happiness.

It’s still shocking to him that he could make her happy. That he could be the person she wants.

He’s gotten an extra week out of her trip so far, and it’s been the most blissful week he can ever remember. His duties as Fire Lord haven’t disappeared over night, but he gets to see Katara at meals, pick her brain over tea (and invite her to council meetings so he can stare at her and lose his train of thought), travel the city with her when he isn’t too busy, and of course, he gets to hold her every night.

The fact that her face is the first thing he sees when he wakes up isn’t exactly rough, either.

“We should probably get up soon,” Katara notes, yawning a little into her free hand.

“Probably,” Zuko agrees. He nuzzles into her palm when she brings it near his cheek. 

Neither of them make any move to actually get up.

“I should definitely get dressed,” Katara notes, laughing as she glances down at her naked body, only nominally covered by the silk sheet. 

“Eh.” Zuko shrugs and smirks at her huff of indignation. “I like how you’re dressed right now.”

“Of course  _ you  _ do.” Katara curls up on the mattress, bringing her face closer to his; her blue eyes are laughing even though she sounds stern. “But I don’t know how everyone else would feel about me walking around naked.”

“Have you seen you naked?” Zuko lifts his eyebrow. “They aren’t going to complain.”

“Ugh, Zuko.”

“And, I happen to know the Fire Lord.” He reaches behind him and strokes along her thigh blindly. Katara shivers a little, which pleases him more than it should. “I think I can get a proclamation passed: Katara can be naked whenever she wants.”

“Katara  _ can  _ be naked whenever she wants, but Katara would much rather only be naked in front of the Fire Lord,” is the prim response to his jest.

Zuko frowns. “Wait a second, you also know this Fire Lord guy?” He twists quickly, his hair swinging behind his shoulder as he moves to kneel next to the bed. “And you only want to be naked in front of him?”

He curls his fingers around her hip bone, pretending to scowl. 

“Mhm.” Katara’s eyes are fully twinkling now, and she rolls over onto her back, one hand keeping up the silk sheet to cover her heavy breasts. “Sorry, Zuko.”

“I’ll challenge him to an Agni Kai!” Zuko jumps to his feet, and Katara bursts into laughter as he puts his hands on his hips. “Who does he think he is?”

“The Fire Lord,” Katara points out, still giggling, and Zuko laughs too, ducking his head and trying to maintain his composure and the semblance of dignity.

“I’ll still fight him.” He smirks down at her, and Katara lifts her hand up. Zuko takes it delicately in both of his, and presses kisses into each knuckle. “He sounds like a total jerk.”

“Sometimes,” Katara agrees lazily, and when Zuko frowns, she smiles brighter. “But he’s also kind. And brave. And funny, when he lets his guard down.” Zuko can feel his expression softening with each word. “And, he makes me feel … seen. And heard. And - I know he would never believe me, but…” She strokes her thumb along the webbing of his left hand, and her eyes dart down to the scar on his chest for a moment. “But he’s the most handsome person I’ve ever met.”

She looks up shyly at that, and Zuko feels a thousand things at once -- disbelief is primary, screaming into existence to tell him to doubt the woman in front of him.

But Katara doesn’t lie. Unlike almost everyone else in his life, Katara isn’t a liar (he should know: one of the few times in her life she did lie, he was there, and there were some mildly disastrous words uttered about pirates, words that Katara  _ still  _ gives him shit for).

“Is that so?” Zuko asks, pushing his disbelief aside and leaning into the almost uncomfortable warmth building in his chest.

Katar bites her lower lip and nods.

Zuko stares at her and it’s in a split second that he realizes she could ask him for anything, anything at all -- his crown, the throne, his life -- and he’d say yes.

“Well then.” Zuko kisses the back of her hand and smiles down at her with a fondness so wide it yawns open inside him and threatens to split him in half. “I won’t duel him. For your sake.”

“That’s good. I think he’s been hard enough on himself in the past.” Katara tugs on his hand a little. “Come here.”

“I don’t know, we probably do need to get dressed.”

Katara pulls on his hands harder, and lets the sheet fall from her chest; it slides off of her body in undulating ripples, leaving her bare to his gaze as he stares hungrily down at her.

“Come here, Zuko.”

Zuko bows his head and then climbs on the bed, lowering himself to her; as the sun rises behind them, he does his worship at a shrine different to Agni’s.

But as Katara’s thighs press around his head, shaking and trembling as she gasps his name, he can’t seem to find it blasphemous.

* * *

“Ah, Fire Lord Zuko.” Iroh greets him formally as Zuko enters their private tea room; Zuko tries to stop his uncle from bowing, but of course Iroh still manages to.

“You don’t have to do that, Uncle,” Zuko mumbles. “It makes me feel silly.”

“It shouldn’t. You are the Fire Lord, and I respect you, and the honor you have restored to the title.” Iroh beams up at him, and Zuko softens somewhat at the genuine expression.

Zuko sits across from his uncle as Iroh begins to brew a pot.

“Will Lady Katara be joining us this afternoon?” Iroh asks, suspiciously nonchalant as he stokes the flames.

“No.” Zuko tries not to appear too put-out by this. “She’s at the hospital, working with our doctors on medical treatments for nerve damage.”

“She is a very special lady,” Iroh says, still oddly nonchalant. 

“I’ll never argue with you about that, Uncle.”

“And, I am glad to see that Lady Katara has extended her visit with us.” Iroh pours their tea very carefully, sighing contentedly as steam curls up from the hot liquid. Zuko takes his cup and inhales the steam before Iroh adds, “Although, some of my nightly excursions through the palace tell me that perhaps I  _ should  _ teach you how to brew contraceptive tea.”

Zuko inhales too sharply and sneezes out pure fire.

“Nephew!” Iroh scolds him lightly as he puts out the flames eating up the table cloth. “I had just bought this in Ba Sing Se.”

“Sorry, Uncle.” Zuko rubs his nose furiously. “That’s only -- I mean, you -- out of nowhere -- me and Katara don’t -- well, we -- I mean --”

“Fire Lord Zuko, I am seventy. Not stupid.”

Zuko wheezes in acknowledgement and sets his cup down. “Still. I don’t need to know how to brew the tea.”

“Then, the Lady Katara is familiar with contraceptives, and-”

“We aren’t … you know ... ” Zuko is sure his hair is on fire. It has to be. Or at least, it’s about to be. 

“You aren’t using contraceptives?” Iroh’s eyes widen comically. “Fire Lord Zuko! Do you wish for your children to be without legitimate claim to the throne? You would dishonor the Lady Katara by planting your seed inside h-”

“Enough!” Zuko shouts, hands in the air. “Uncle,  _ please,  _ please, I am begging you to  _ stop  _ talking about m-my  _ seed  _ and Katara in the same sentence-”

“I only wish for you to be responsible. And sensible.”

“We are.” Zuko pinches the bridge of his nose and grits his teeth. “We won’t -- she won’t get -- Agni.”

“While I am sure you are being … creative, there is still nothing better to avoid an unwanted pregnancy than the tea I would show you-”

“We aren’t…” Zuko slams his head into the tea table, and Iroh pats his head with a sympathetic noise. 

Great. Now his head hurts  _ and  _ he wants to melt into the floor.

“We aren’t doing anything that can get Katara pregnant,” Zuko mumbles to the floor. “We did one time, but we thought it was too risky. Because of the issue of heirs.”

“Ah.” Iroh keeps patting his head. “If you had the tea…”

“Uncle.” Zuko wonders why he ever got out of bed. If he were in bed, he could be holding Katara right now. If he were in bed, he wouldn’t be having this conversation.

Truly, the spirits wanted him to stay in bed.

“Alright, nephew, I will resign myself to accepting that you will keep your own wits and common sense about you in the face of your beautiful lady friend and the passion you undoubtedly share for each other.”

Zuko groans but lifts his head, rubbing his hand into the sore spot under his hairline. “I guess I should say thank you for caring enough to have this conversation, Uncle.”

“Oh, no, don’t thank me yet.” Iroh chuckles and sips his tea with a happy hum. “You can thank me after I serve the tea at your wedding. Then, you won’t even  _ need  _ the contraceptive tea as the spirits will bless your union with an heir for me to dote on.”

His insides turn to ice before Iroh stops talking. He feels frozen, entirely, something clogging up his throat; it takes Iroh half a minute before he realizes that Zuko’s stopped moving.

“What is wrong, Fire Lord?”

“I-” Zuko clears his throat and blinks at last, dragging his eyes up to Iroh’s concerned face. “She isn’t going to marry me, Uncle.” He hopes he doesn’t sound as bitter as he feels, but he feels fairly bitter.

The taste of tea in his mouth when he sips at it doesn’t do much to dispel that bitterness.

“Why would you think such a thing?” Iroh puffs up slightly. “You are a very eligible bachelor.”

“I’m not.” Zuko swallows harshly and sets his tea down again. “Uncle, think about it. Why would Katara want to stay here, indefinitely? She has her own life beyond these walls-”

“-I hardly believe you would keep her here against her will, nephew-”

“-I’m not exactly easy to get along with-”

“-I think if you have eaten enough during the day and have not yet been exposed to the idiotic opinions of some of your advisors, your mood is much more stable and forgiving than it was five years ago-”

“-and Uncle, think about -- our soldiers  _ murdered  _ her mother.”

Uncle Iroh has nothing to say to that, and Zuko blinks back frustrated tears.

“No matter how much I--” he falters again from saying the truth. “--My face. What’s left of it.” He touches his unscarred cheek. “I look exactly like my father. I am the face of our nation, and our nation _ killed  _ her mother and countless waterbenders. We destroyed her history, her heritage. We would have destroyed her hope too, if she wasn’t so … damn hopeful.” Zuko laughs weakly and shakes his head, staring at Iroh, whose expression has grown sorrowful. “So - as much as I might want it? A future with Katara isn’t something that I’ll be getting.”

Zuko clears his throat and folds his hands in his lap. “After everything the Fire Nation has done, it’s hard to feel sorry for myself for that.”

“You have changed so much since you were the boy who faced your father at that Agni Kai,” Iroh says gently. “And you are no longer the angry prince seeking his honor. You are a good man, Zuko. Katara can see that. You have changed into a man worthy of her love.”

“I’m not owed her love just because I stopped being a complete jerk, Uncle.” Zuko feels the bitterness curling around his throat. “And how would I even offer that future to her: please, be my wife, become the leader of the people who took everything from you?”

“Lady Katara would still be a leader of her own people -- It could be viewed as a union between nations,” Iroh begins, but Zuko cuts him off firmly.

“It’s not going to happen, Uncle.” Zuko lets out a tense breath, and feels the temperature of his skin rising. “I’ve … accepted that. And I’m asking you to do the same.” Iroh nods, once, casting his eyes down, and Zuko adds, “I have time with Katara now, and I’m grateful for it. I won’t question the time I get, but when she’s ready to leave … she’ll leave.”

_ She’ll leave me  _ doesn’t quite leave his mouth, but he knows Iroh hears it all the same.

“Perhaps it is time that we make further strides in making amends for the cruelty our people showed the other nations,” Iroh says thoughtfully after they’ve been quiet for several minutes. “To show the world that we are ready and willing to ensure that what happened a hundred years ago will never happen again.”

That does have Zuko’s interest and agreement immediately. “What do you suggest, Uncle?”

* * *

Later that week as he meditates towards the evening, Zuko can feel Katara approaching. 

She hesitates in the doorway to his private balcony over the gardens; Zuko doesn’t open his eyes, but instead basks in the presence of Katara, which he can sense like a second sun. 

Or, perhaps the moon. He hasn’t discounted the gentler of the celestial objects for a long time.

He supposes that makes him the tides, drawn to her over and over again.

“Can I help you?” Zuko speaks softly, not wanting to pause his breathing or to startle Katara.

“No.” Katara takes another step forward. “I … came to see how your day was.”

“It was …” Zuko trails off and releases a breath of hot air. “Stressful. Draining. I wanted to sit in the sun before it set.”

“Should I--”

“Please stay.”

He means  _ forever _ , but he assumes she hears  _ right now. _

“Okay.” Katara walks forward quietly until she’s standing at the railing in front of him, partly blocking out the sun’s rays.

An eclipse.

“I wrote to your brother, and to Arnook’s nephew at your suggestion,” Zuko says, still focusing on his breathing and leaving his eyes shut. “If they agree to being diplomatic ambassadors, that means Sokka might be here within the next two months.”

Katara’s quiet for a few seconds, and he cracks an eye to look at her; she’s still staring out over the gardens, so he closes his eye again.

“Maybe …. Maybe I’ll stay here. Until Sokka comes,” Katara whispers, and Zuko stiffens, a plume of hopeful heat erupting in his belly. “I don’t mean to overstay my welcome.”

“You wouldn’t,” Zuko assures her, taking another deep breath. “Everyone is incredibly pleased with your presence here.”

His own personal manservant had assured him that his skin had never looked better -- “positively glowing, Fire Lord, sir” -- and Zuko is torn between amusement and embarrassment that Katara has such a profound effect on him that people who used to be too shy to give him their opinion suddenly have no problem telling him how much  _ better  _ he seems now.

“Does that include you, Zuko?” 

He can’t keep his eyes shut now; Zuko opens them to stare at Katara again, and finds that she’s turned to face him. Shadows keep her expression somewhat hidden, but if he didn’t know better, he’d think she was nervous.

“I’m probably at the top of that list,” Zuko admits, and he doesn’t miss her smile. “And - and the hospitals, of course. They’re -- they really needed an expert healer, with all of the lingering health problems caused by my family’s rule-”

“Right. The hospitals.” Katara’s smile is still pleased as she half-turns to watch the sunset.

Zuko watches her, enshrined in the reddening glow, and feels caught up in acute misery but also a happiness so simple he might drown in it.

“I don’t mean to interrupt your meditation.” Katara stands up straight suddenly. “I can leave you to it.”

“No, don’t worry.” Zuko offers her a small smile, and hopes it’s reassuring enough. “You should stay. I’m focusing on my breathing because ….”

“Today was stressful.”

He nods.

“When Sokka gets frustrated with the tribal chieftains, he always tells me he’s going to drop one on an ice floe and send them off to sea.”

That makes Zuko grin. “I could threaten that. If you would be kind enough to provide me the ice.”

“I’ll think about it,” Katara teases him. They both smile at each other, just smile, for a few dizzy seconds. 

“How do you breathe when you meditate?” Katara’s innate curiosity is coming out, and Zuko’s all too happy to oblige it.

“I work on the fire I feel here.” He puts a hand to his stomach and takes a breath as though to demonstrate. “And I let it … run its course through my body, from my head to fingers to toes, and then back up when I inhale.” Zuko sucks in another breath. “It keeps the fire steady. Breath is everything to a firebender.”

“Can you show me?” 

Zuko nods and gestures to the spot next to him, but Katara smirks, a little teasingly.

“I was thinking something more like this.” She stands over him so she’s straddling his thighs and then lowers herself carefully; locking her feet behind Zuko’s back, Katara sits up in his lap and smiles at him. “How’s that?”

“It’s … fine,” Zuko says faintly. His attention somewhat redirects from his breathing and goes to controlling his dick which is suddenly very interested in meditation.

“You’ve been distant this week.” Katara looks directly into his eyes as she talks, and Zuko is overwhelmed by the intimacy of it all. “Why is that?”

“I-” Zuko shakes his head. “I don’t want to worry you about that.”

“Don’t push me away,” Katara whispers, real anxiety in her eyes. Zuko tucks a strand of hair behind her ear and then settles his hands at the small of her back. “Please; Aang always did that, he always thought I couldn’t handle something, or that he could handle it himself, and - and I’m tired of being treated like I don’t have a voice or shouldn’t have an opinion-”

“I don’t want that,” Zuko says quickly, but fear stops him from being open with her.

How is he supposed to say  _ I love you  _ to the girl he’d been thinking about for five years, the girl he shouldn’t have any chance in the hells with? The girl who’s quickly become a person he trusts more than anyone else in the world?

“I -- I don’t know how to tell you about what’s been bothering me,” Zuko admits weakly, “but I want to be able to tell you. I don’t want to … push you away. That’s the last thing I want.”

“Okay.” Katara nods and rests her forehead against his, looking into his eyes for as long as she can. “Show me how to breathe, then.”

“Are you sure? Because - we can go inside, and I can … I can figure out-”

“I don’t want to push you either, Zuko. I’m glad that you’re willing to try, and that you’re listening to me. We can take it a step at a time.”

“The best pot of tea is one that takes a long time to boil,” Zuko says with Iroh’s wisdom, and he enjoys the massive eye roll it owes him.

“More breathing, less metaphors.”

Zuko grins but then sucks in a slow and steady breath; Katara matches him, smiling as she places her hands on his shoulders, her forehead still touching his. Zuko holds his breath at the top, and lightly taps the skin of her midriff, exposed by her sheer top, as he counts to eight.

Then, he releases the breath slowly for eight more counts, and Katara does as well. They don’t do anything besides breathe for quite a while, and Zuko stops keeping count, and only breathes when he feels the need to; a rhythm builds between them, a giving and taking that’s overwhelming as her eyes unwaveringly look into his own.

At one point, Katara shifts slightly in his lap, her hips rocking forward just so, and Zuko groans softly in the middle of a breath in. But, neither of them move to replicate the motion, and they continue to breathe, Katara’s thumbs slowly rubbing circles into his lower neck, and Zuko holding her tighter and tighter with each passing second.

It’s peaceful, if peace could encapsulate the way his heart is prepared to leap out of his chest and into her hands. Zuko feels raw and vulnerable and it would be awful if he were doing this with anyone else. But Katara stays with him, closer to him than almost anyone else has ever been, and she doesn’t do anything past breathing.

He feels the connection between them, already there, and already tested in many ways, strengthening; Zuko thinks he can see something connecting who they are -- some filament made of material stronger than iron threading between their souls. 

With each breath, the bridge grows, and replaces each of his obstacles and good reasons  _ why this doesn’t work  _ with nothing but the knowledge that this girl could take his soul in her hands and carry it with her to each end of the earth -- and bring it back safely, having cared for it with each step.

Katara shifts again, and Zuko’s aware that she rocks against his erection -- he’s been hard since she settled herself in his lap, although it’s been surprisingly easy to ignore. 

“Sorry,” he whispers, breaking the drowsy spell that had fallen over them.

“Don’t be sorry.” Katara brushes her nose against his, her eyes a painful blue as she looks into his eyes and almost right through him.

The sun is nearly set now, and the sky above them has turned to a rich, deep purple.

“Katara,” Zuko begins, unable to hide the words away anymore. “Katara, I-”

Katara kisses him, and Zuko moans shamelessly, wrapping his arms around her tightly as he presses his mouth to hers with an urgency that goes beyond any concept of time.

“Zuko,” she whispers between kisses. “Zuko-”

He’d like to be able to say they made it off the balcony; but, much like Katara, Zuko’s never been good at lying.

* * *

Zuko knocks on a familiar door the next morning; his knuckles rap against the wood quickly, and he tries to soothe his breathing before his embarrassment gets the better of him.

“Fire Lord Zuko! What a lovely surprise!” Iroh beams up at him. “How can I help you, so early in the morning?”

“Ineedthetea.” 

Zuko stares at Iroh, who blinks up at him, confused. 

“I am sorry, nephew -- I am an old man, I’m afraid, and I cannot understand you when you speak so quickly. Could you repeat yourself?”

Zuko stares down at the plush carpet beneath his feet, well aware that he is not wearing shoes, nor real pants, nor a shirt, under his robe.

_ I am the Fire Lord!  _ He tells himself.  _ I am in control of this palace, and this government, and I will not feel embarrassed inside my own home! _

“Tea,” Zuko croaks, looking up from his feet to stare imploringly at Iroh. “I need … I need tea, Iroh.”

“Are you thirsty?” Iroh asks, aghast. “Have you already gone through the tea I gave you for your birthday?”

“The tea, old man!” Zuko hisses, jabbing his finger at Iroh. “The herbal tea!”

“Jasmine?”

“No! The  _ baby  _ herbal tea!” Zuko shouts. “That you drink so you don’t have any babies!”

Iroh nods once and then laughs so hard he chokes on his own giggles. Zuko bangs his head repeatedly against the doorframe, and doesn’t stop until Iroh disappears into his suite and remerges with a small bag full of crushed leaves.

“Same temperature as jasmine tea, but steep for fifteen minutes,” Iroh instructs. “And while it will be fine to drink today, Lady Katara should be drinking this  _ before  _ you-”

“Thank you.” Zuko half-sprints down the hallway before Iroh can finish his sex ed lesson.

He’s never going to live this down.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AHHHH so there's definitely a fifth chapter planned where Sokka shows up!! And, there's ... so much smut in that chapter. Like a lot. All the smut that wasn't in this chapter.
> 
> Please, please, please let me know what you think! This could easily be longer than 5 chapters, or stay at 5 chapters (there's lots of potential for future angst and sad times Zuko, clearly, especially if a certain bald monk shows up). And thanks to everyone for their encouragement so far!


	5. Dawn to Dusk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The day of Sokka's arrival, from beginning to end.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Yes the chapter title is the inverse of that amazing Azula moment where she says dusk til dawn when they show up early to a party)
> 
> HELLO you all were SO kind on the last chapter, which inspired me so much on THIS chapter, and so instead of having more PLOT I ended up with more smut, which means that we'll need at LEAST another chapter to get things even close to "wrapped up" but even then I imagine it will have to be longer ANYWAY
> 
>  **warnings**  
>  Angst, sad Zuko  
> References to mental illness (Azula)  
> Canonical angst/canonical death of mothers/wives/children  
> (Sad Iroh)  
> Smuttening  
> Wake-up morning sex  
> passionate sex  
> (enthusiastic consent, always!)

“Katara.”

The name leaves his mouth as a gentle exhale as Zuko grows more aware of her presence; Katara doesn’t seem to hear him.

A snore shudders out of her small nose, making him smile. Zuko opens his eyes and studies Katara’s relaxed face. Her hand is pressed against the scar on his chest, and her head is resting on his shoulder -- a frizzy, out-of-control curl tickles his nose and chin. 

“Good morning, Katara,” he whispers, stroking his fingers down her bare side. 

“Mm.” She hums at that, her snores breaking in half; Katara’s eyes are still closed as she turns her face to hide in his chest. 

“The sun’s up.” Zuko turns his head to face the rising sun. 

Golden light permeates his room, a soft and full color that casts timid shadows, growing bolder, against his western wall. He can hear the dawn chorus starting, and Agni’s power leaks into his blood, strengthening his next breath in, a sharp, full thing that drags in more clarity to his thoughts. 

Katara starts to breathe heavily again, her body a warm and welcome familiarity against his.

He strokes his fingers down her back now, nuzzling kisses into the crown of her head; in sleep, the knots have fallen out, leaving only a curtain of thick, wavy hair that fuzzes into untamed curls in the early morning humidity. Summer is here, fully, and the heat of the day will probably prove to be too much for Katara in the next six hours.

And Zuko’s contending with a heat of his own.

“I love you,” he whispers quietly, his thumb rolling circles into the skin above her elbow. He adjusts his grip on the dozing waterbender, who’s more or less sprawled out on his chest, and wraps his other arm around her waist. “Stay with me.”

He eyes his vanity, where his current, largest secret resides. “Marry me,” he tests out. “Stay with me.”

_ Ignore our shared history; ignore the things my people have done to yours. Forgive the things I’ve done. Let me love you, and I’d give you everything. _

She’s been here for almost seven weeks now, and Zuko physically hurts when he thinks about the day she’ll get on a boat and leave. But, as the days grow longer and her place in his life feels more solid, he’s more and more painfully aware that this is all temporary.

And the day is wasting away.

“Katara,” he says again, louder than his last confessions. “Katara, we have to wake up.”

“Nope.” Her nose presses, warm and soft, into his collarbone. 

“Yep.” Zuko kisses her hair again and strokes the backs of his fingers along the part of her cheek he can reach. “Your brother’s boat will be here in three hours.”

“Mmm. Sokka’s fine.”

“It’d be pretty rude if I weren’t there to greet our new ambassador from the Southern Water Tribe.”

“Mmph. You go’n I’ll...I’ll…” Katara trails off as she starts to snore again, and Zuko twitches when he feels an impressive amount of drool building up.

“Droolbender,” he teases her, nudging her with his knee. “You have to wake up.”

“Rude.” Katara wipes her mouth on his bare skin, and Zuko pretends to gag, even as he’s hiding a laugh. “Like I said, Prin’Zuko -  _ you  _ go. I...sleep.”

“You sleep?”

“Mhm.” Katara nods, her nose still pressed to his skin, and his heart throbs with a deep-set affection that neither time nor distance nor flame could destroy.

He blinks and then laughs in realization. “Wait.  _ Prince  _ Zuko? What year do you think this is?”

“Mm.” Katara grumbles and uses her small hand on his chest as an anchor to pull herself closer to him, burrowing in. 

Zuko, despite his protests of needing to wake up, seizes his chance to hold her tighter.

“Y’can’t steal Aang,” Katara yawns. “He’sss...toofast.”

“He is fast,” Zuko agrees with a chuckle. “And I haven’t tried to steal Aang since we were at the North Pole, almost  _ six  _ years ago.”

“Fi-Lord Zuko,” Katara tests out instead. “Sifu Hotman.”

“Hey.” Zuko pokes her side, and Katara swallows a laugh so that it becomes a snort. “I worked pretty hard to become Fi-Lord.”

“And I worked pr’hard to get comfy.” 

“Yes, yes, we all had our work cut out for us.” Zuko feels incredibly playful, in a way he never has before. 

That’s something that Katara (and to an extent, her brother) has been able to pull out from him. He’d buried his laughter for so long, refused smiles and jokes and moments of joy. But with Katara, Zuko finds that it’s easier to smile, and that he wants her to smile, too.

He’d loved Mai, completely and terribly and disastrously, but they’d had an intensity with no compromise, a passionless passion that was built on their mutual distaste of certain Fire Nation expectations. But as much as she’d cared for him and supported him, Zuko had always hidden parts of his emotions from her, knowing that they made her uncomfortable.

Katara doesn’t quite demand emotional responses, but he shows them to her freely. She doesn’t judge his anger, nor his happiness. And anger -- the only emotion he was allowed to show for so much of his childhood and adolescence -- doesn’t fester between them, and it’s not the only thing he has in his arsenal anymore.

Zuko doesn’t think it’s a coincidence that his fire has never been brighter. These days, there are moments where he could swear that it turns white at the edges, even if white flame hasn’t been seen in firebenders since the days of dragons.

“Katara,” he whispers one last time. 

She groans grumpily, which only makes him smile. “Sweetheart,” Zuko cajoles softly, and that makes her sigh a little less grumpily.

“What?” 

“We do have to get up.” He rubs his thumbs into the divots in her lower back, right above the swell of her perfect bottom.

It’s objectively perfect, okay? He’s considered it with a great scholarly intensity many times.

It also makes Katara --

“Oh.” She shudders and turns her face slightly to peek up at him; Zuko keeps up the gentle massaging, and Katara wiggles in closer to him, pressing her body against his.

“We can stay in bed a little longer,” Zuko concedes, and Katara moans happily, her eyes closed again. “But, I’m … awake.”

“Yeah?” Her voice has lost its sleepy quality, and now she sounds distinctly breathless, in a way he’s grown increasingly familiar with over the last two months.

“Yeah.” His own voice is a rasp he can barely recognize. “The sun’s up, so I am too.”

“You are?” Katara moves her hand lazily down his chest, obviously brushing the palm of her hand over his cock which strains against his loose silk pants. “Oh. You are.”

And, her beautiful blue eyes are still closed, her face still slack.

She’s teasing him, and it’s driving him wild.

He loves it.

“Yeah. I’m up. And …”

“And what?”

“I want you.” There’s gravel in his voice and a flame in his belly, threatening to swallow them both whole. 

He isn’t sure what’s going on with the sun, if there’s some celestial event he didn’t take note of when an advisor doubtlessly told him about it -- but then Zuko looks down at the woman in his arms and decides that it has much more to do with her and her beauty and his response to her than anything in the sky.

Katara’s breathing has changed, little catches to it here and there as he keeps his hands in place on her lower back; she shifts her legs until one of his is slotted between hers, and she rolls her hips in a way that could just so  _ barely  _ be construed as her shifting in sleep.

“Sweetheart,” he tries again, and Katara’s skin turns to gooseflesh under his hands. “You’re so beautiful.”

“M’not.”

“You are,” he promises. “The most beautiful woman in four nations.”

“Hmm.” Katara rolls her hips again, and the heat in their bed builds in a way that has nothing to do with the season.

Zuko tries not to think about when his bed became theirs; probably the first time Katara lay down in it and let him show her how badly he needed her.

“Can I show you?” Zuko whispers, nearly mad with the need to feel her against him, to be inside her. 

He doesn’t move his hands; he doesn’t care how badly he might think he  _ needs  _ her - he needs her to want this too before he can dissolve into  _ needing. _

“Yes.” Katara doesn’t sound sleepy at all in her answer, but when he beams and ducks down to kiss her forehead, she hides a giggle and keeps her eyes closed. “But I don’t wanna get up yet.”

“I can wait.” He can wait. He can. 

_ Go to sleep, penis. This is an order from your Fire Lord, Zuko. _

His cock does not go back to sleep.

“Don’t wanna wait, either,” Katara whispers, rubbing her face against his chest and definitely kissing the sensitive skin around his nipple.

Zuko shudders and digs his fingers a little tighter into her back. “Katara.”

“Want you,” Katara whispers, and he can feel her face heat up against his skin. “...I always do.”

He groans and tilts his head back, trying to tame himself before he loses it completely.

“Zuko.” She kisses his chest again, her movements sleepy and unhurried. “Wake me up.”

“Is that an order?” He goes for a joke but his words are ragged and nearly pathetic.

“Yes.”

“Who am I to disobey?” Zuko whispers, miserable with it.

“Zuko?”

He exhales slowly, and then moves to maneuver Katara completely on top of him. He pulls her leg gently over him so she straddles his lap; from there, he takes an extra pillow and puts it behind his head and shoulders.

“And you’re sure-”

Katara doesn’t lift her head from his chest or open her eyes; she just barely digs her fingers in where she’s placed her hands on his shoulders. “Fuck me, Zuko.”

His fingers spasm where he’s holding her by her thighs, and Zuko kisses her head again, wishing only that he could kiss her lips. It’s easier to hide secrets in her hair though, and that’s what Zuko does as he pulls his pants down, letting Katara brush against his uncovered cock.

“I love you,” he mouths against her curls as he adjusts himself to line up with her. “I’m so in love with you.”

Zuko’s fingers tease lightly at her entrance, but Katara’s wet already, shockingly so; it makes him see stars as he clenches his eyes shut and feels his cock throb where it’s trapped between their bodies.

As he circles his thumb against her clit, Katara has the audacity to let out a teasing, loud snore.

“Guess you really do need to wake up,” Zuko teases right back, and he can feel her cheek twitch against his chest as she hides a smile and snores again, loud and feigned.

“You’ll always have a place among the Ember Island Players,” Zuko says primly, lining his cock up fully. “A very convincing performance.”

Katara’s next fake snore is cut in half as he pushes his way into her -- he’d feel a flare of success if he weren’t rolling his eyes back into his head at the hot, tight, wetness of her.

“Katara,” he moans, rolling his hips and planting his feet. “Spirits, wake up, sweetheart-”

Her fingers are clenching his shoulders now, and Zuko runs his hands through her hair, down her back, and then cups her full ass, anchoring their connection so he can fuck into her with increased force if not speed.

The sun rises steadily as he moves, and Katara shivers against him; he can feel the hidden power in her tense thighs, how she’s holding back from taking over, and Zuko’s delighted in her farce as much as he’s frustrated by it.

Still, it’s a good exercise in restraint, and there’s something about the whole scenario that makes his heart hammer furiously in his chest -- it’s that she trusts him, he realizes with a groan that he hides in her hair. Katara trusts him to do this.

He realizes also that he’s babbling, so he pays more attention to that before he can babble something he can’t take back. 

“You feel amazing.” That’s true. “So beautiful.” Also true. “Agni, Katara, I--”

_ Stop that one. _

Luckily, Katara moans, a high, breathy noise he’d never connect back to the fierce waterbender if he heard it in the dark with his eyes closed.

“Are you awake now, sweetheart?” Zuko whispers raggedly, holding her tighter and nosing his way down to her temple to kiss her sweaty skin. 

“I-” Katara shakes in his arms, and her face screws up like it does before she screams or cries or --

_ Oh.  _ Oh.

Zuko, on some random instinct he can’t explain, grazes his teeth against Katara’s ear, his fingers digging into her flesh in a way that could leave marks if he isn’t careful. Before he can apologize, Katara clenches around him, a rush of wetness soaking him and his-still mostly-on pants. She cries out, a half-sob breaking apart the syllables that are probably his name.

She’s tight, and he can feel how the oversensitivity is making her limbs twitch, so Zuko hauls her up higher on his torso, pulling her off of him, and fucks into his hand until he moans Katara’s name and spills into his fist.

As soon as he can put together multiple thoughts, Zuko realizes they’re both panting.

“I’m awake,” Katara mutters, letting out a long exhale. “I am definitely awake now.”

“Good.” Zuko wipes his hand against the sheet. “That’s. Good.”

They both break into horrible giggles that dissolve into them kissing each other furiously, the sheet twining around their connected forms as Zuko rolls to cover Katara with his body.

He can’t stop smiling as he kisses her thoroughly, and at one point Katara drags her hand through his hair and rolls her eyes. 

“Ugh. You’re a morning person.”

“I am,” Zuko agrees, kissing her jaw from her chin to her ear lobe. 

“I can’t believe I’m in -”

She stops, and Zuko pulls back to study her face; his heart skips a beat in his chest because  _ she couldn’t have been about to say... _

Katara’s face is flushed, but given what they just did and are currently doing, that might not mean anything.

“What?” Zuko whispers, a fragile bubble of hope building in his chest.

“I can’t believe I’m in … bed with a morning person,” Katara finishes. 

The small bubble in his chest splinters and dissolves with her words, so he doesn’t notice how she can’t meet his eyes.

* * *

They’re on time for Sokka’s arrival, but only because there had been a hold up as they were coming into harbor.

Sokka flies down the ramp to embrace his sister, and Zuko watches from the palanquin, smiling at the enthusiasm of their welcome.

It makes him want to visit Azula. 

His sister had been distraught at his last visit though, her small hands going to the blood red crater of scar tissue below his heart; Zuko can still hear her sobs echoing in his head if he doesn’t actively push them away. 

The healers didn’t think it wise that he come again until she settled back down; Zuko checks every day to see if it’s time yet. And it hasn’t been. Not yet.

He never thought he’d reach the point where he yearned for the days where Azula would scream at him and hurl accusations of  _ hideous bastard  _ and  _ usurper  _ at him.

Zuko shakes himself a little, while still standing tall and proud in his full ceremonial robes; Sokka’s hair has grown longer since Zuko last saw him and his shoulders are broader than ever; Katara’s wearing dark blue clothes in the style of the Fire Nation and looks comfortable as she navigates the dock. 

They’re all so different than they were as children, but they’re still them. Still friends.

He’d also never thought he’d see the day where he called people  _ friends  _ so readily in the privacy of his thoughts.

“Fire Lord Zuko, I presume!” Sokka’s voice booms out, and the large man strides towards him, grinning from ear to ear. “How  _ are  _ you, Fire Lord Zuko.”

“Sokka.” Zuko bows respectfully. “You honor me with your pres-”

Multiple guards shift to attack positions as Sokka scoops up the young Fire Lord and swings him side to side.

“It’s fine,” Zuko mumbles, sure that his face matches his robes. “He’s fine.”

Slowly, fire disappears from the hands of his private guard, but more than a few of them are hiding a smile as Sokka finally drops Zuko back to the ground.

“Maybe don’t pick me up like an escaped penguin when we meet in front of the council,” Zuko suggests calmly, smoothing his robes back out.

“What the Fire Lord is  _ trying  _ to say is: we’re really glad you’re here,” Katara says, smiling first at Zuko and then at her brother.

Sokka snorts, but Zuko inclines his head. “Yes. Lady Katara is correct.”

Immediately, Sokka’s eyes narrow, and he looks between them quickly.

“One question--” he begins, but Katara cuts him off.

“Nukilik will be here soon,” Katara speaks serenely, her chin lifted regally; not a single curl is out of place (and Zuko _prays to Agni_ that they both look composed enough that her brother will have _zero idea_ what they got up to in their bed this morning). “He’ll arrive tomorrow morning. We thought that for today, you might want to get comfortable in the palace and see your rooms for the next month?”

“Right.” Sokka rubs his chin thoughtfully. “Right.”

* * *

After a long and busy day, full of Sokka striding around Caldera City and shaking hands with a dozen vendors, eating free samples and high-fiving cooks for their delicious wares, they all return to the palace and eat a simple meal to offset all of the grazing they had done that day.

Zuko watches Sokka and Katara laugh privately, his chin propped in his hand; there’s a sleepy sort of peace stealing over him as he watches the siblings. 

They both look comfortable there, and when Sokka belches loud enough to make Katara punch his arm, Zuko grins and starts to prepare their tea to end the meal.

Iroh looks on approvingly, chiming in here and there with stories of his time at sea as a young man; many of his exploits earn a hearty cheer of approval from Sokka, who lifts his goblet of wine higher and higher the longer Iroh talks.

“Whoo!” Sokka concludes, his wine sloshing dangerously over the rim of his goblet as Iroh talks of the time his skill in sailing earned him a kiss from the most beautiful woman in town. “And then what happened?”

“And then I married her,” Iroh says peacefully, accepting a cup of tea from Zuko. “And I never had need to kiss another.”

“Ah.” Sokka nods sagely, sipping his own tea for a moment and then making a face. “Blech. Sorry, buddy, it’s kinda bitter.”

“I think it’s wonderful,” Katara assures Zuko, whose ears had started to burn immediately.

“Your brewing has much improved, nephew.” Iroh drinks heartily. “Perhaps you have learned something of patience in these last few months.”

“Perhaps.” Zuko wonders if the siblings will notice if he kicks his uncle in the shin while they’re all sprawled out around the table. 

“Iroh,” Sokka speaks up suddenly. “What happened to your wife?”

“I lost her,” Iroh answers simply, grief shining in his eyes as he studies his tea. “Shortly after Lu Ten’s birth. A fever stole her away from us. And then, our country’s bloodlust stole my son.”

They’re all silent for a long time, and Katara reaches out slowly and places her hand on Iroh’s arm. He sniffles and pats her hand with a weak smile. 

“I’m so sorry, Iroh,” Katara whispers, and he shakes his head at her concern.

“Do not fret, my dear. I had many happy years with my beloved wife, and she gave me my son, my greatest joy. The pain of losing them is bearable when I weigh it against how much I loved, and still love them.”

“That’s how I feel about Yue,” Sokka says abruptly, and they all look at him.

He’s staring into his cup, his expression lost.

“She’s always there. I mean. She  _ is  _ the moon.” Sokka smiles briefly and then looks out the window where the moon is already rising. “And … I love Suki. But, it hurts every day to know that Yue is gone. That I’ll never hear her voice again. That she was so important to me, and now ...”

Zuko blinks, processing this: Sokka has mentioned his brief love affair with Princess Yue here and there (he still cringes when he thinks about his awkward response to Sokka’s first attempt to bring it up), but he’d assumed the jovial, goofy warrior had put it behind him. But clearly it still hurts him.

“Sorry.” Sokka shakes his head and returns to the room. “Have I ever told you guys about the time I tied three penguins together and tried to surf?”

“No, you most certainly have not, Master Sokka,” Iroh says encouragingly.

An hour later, after Sokka has regaled them of his disastrous attempt at penguin sledding and they’ve finished their tea, they all retire to their rooms. 

Katara stares meaningfully at Zuko as she disappears into her suite of rooms (which she admittedly has not used since her first week here). Zuko hides a smile as he escorts Sokka to his own rooms, which are around the corner from Katara’s, and the opposite direction to Zuko’s.

Yes, he did choose those rooms specifically. Yes, he can do things right sometimes.

There’s a companionable silence between the young men as Zuko escorts Sokka to his door. It’s only broken when Zuko feels the overbearing need to demonstrate his deeply ingrained etiquette.

“I hope you find the rooms to your liking,” he says politely, folding his hands behind his back. “And that you enjoy your time here.”

“I think I will,” Sokka says with a grin, nudging Zuko in the back hard enough to make him tilt forward. “I kinda like the Fire Nation now that I’m not trying to invade it or dethrone its leader.”

Zuko laughs nervously as they near Sokka’s door. 

Sokka clears his throat as he rubs his neck. “Of course, the Southern Water Tribe is … interested that … our last Waterbender has remained here for so long.”

If Zuko were a less adept firebender, the tapestries they pause in front of would have caught on fire.

“Lady Katara has remained here of her own volition,” Zuko says carefully, weighing each word. “While I have encouraged her visit’s duration, she has not been kept here against her will.”

“Lady Katara. Guess that makes me  _ Lord  _ Sokka.” Sokka snorts and shakes his head before sobering. “And … I’m not accusing you of kidnapping my sister, dude.”

“I know.” Zuko clenches his hands together very tightly because he  _ did  _ think that for a moment. “But, I want you to know that … she’s happy here. At least - I think she’s happy here.”

“She definitely is,” Sokka agrees. 

“She told you?”

Zuko can’t hide the hope in his voice.

“No.” Sokka smirks at the way Zuko noticeably deflates. “She didn’t have to. Katara’s always worn her emotions on her sleeve, it’s one of the things that’s so great about her. She seems … I don’t know. She seems like a girl.”

“Katara …  _ is  _ a girl.”

Sokka rolls his eyes. “Duh. I mean: she … she kinda took over our family when Mom died. Katara was always more of a mother than a sister to me, even though she was younger. Then, we found Aang, and it was everything she could do to keep us together, keep us going. Dad always said she was born fifty years old. But here.” Sokka shrugs and stares off down the dark corridor. “I don’t know why, but she seems … like a girl now.”

“Oh.” Zuko considers this, and even though he’d obviously prefer to have Katara confirm this to him herself, it’s nice to hear the person closest to her in the world observe her happiness. “I guess I’m always worried that being here will remind her of everything she lost.”

“I’m sure it does. You could probably ask her about it.”

“I should,” Zuko agrees, growing somber at the thought. It’s a conversation he always dodges around, a question he avoids when he’s at his most vulnerable around her. 

_ Could you learn to love a firebender? Could you ever forgive me? _

“I want you to know.” Zuko clears his throat and half-bows to Sokka, who looks surprised at the action. “I intend to honor your sister. I would have her -- I would give her -- I would --”

“Dude.” Sokka grips his arm tightly and stops him from becoming a blubbering, stuttering mess. “I appreciate it, but the only person you have to convince is Katara. If she’s happy, I’m definitely happy, and our dad will be too. I don’t need to  _ know  _ what’s going on between you two -- even though I can  _ definitely  _ guess now. I don’t need to approve it - I only need to see that she’s happy.”

“Right,” Zuko says weakly, mortified.

“Next you’ll tell me that you have a betrothal necklace already carved.” Sokka snorts affectionately, and Zuko …

Well, the charitable phrase for what he does is ‘choke on his own spit.’

“Ugh.” Sokka pinches the bridge of his nose. “Well. I always wanted a brother.”

“Ungrh.” Zuko mumbles, still choking.

“There there.” Sokka pats his back, a little more forcefully than he might need to. “There there?”

Sokka walks to his door, chuckling, and Zuko gets his shit together to ask him something.

“Sokka?”

He pauses with his hand on his door frame. “Yeah, buddy?” 

“Can I ask you something … personal?”

Sokka nods, frowning.

“It …” Zuko lets all his breath out at once and speaks before he loses his courage. “Did you tell her?”

A palpable silence. He can see Sokka’s fingers tightening on the doorframe.

“No,” Sokka whispers, his eyes glittering in the darkness. “So now I tell her every night. Even if she can’t hear me.”

“Sokka…” Zuko trails off, at a loss.

“Yeah. It’s rough, buddy.” Sokka pats the door, clearing his throat roughly. “Goodnight, Zuko.”

“Goodnight.”

“And Zuko?” Sokka calls after him as Zuko walks down the hallway. He pauses and half-turns to the future chief of the South.

“Yes?”

“Tell Katara I said goodnight.”

Zuko can hear Sokka laughing at him through the closed door as he retreats around the corner.

He nearly stops at Katara’s door, but he can hear her shuffling around; not wanting to disturb her nightly routine, or impose on her, Zuko walks to his bedroom alone.

He isn’t alone for long.

After he’s removed his tunic, washed his face in the basin of cool water, and opened the windows to the night breeze, there’s a soft knock at his door.

“If this is Sokka coming to murder you, at least you’ll have kissed Katara,” he tells his reflection in the mirror over his vanity.

It’s the other sibling though; he’d been hoping it was, but Zuko hadn’t wanted to get his hopes up.

But, as Katara sweeps into his room, her hair unbound around her shoulders, wearing only a simple shift and a smile, Zuko’s heart clenches once, painfully, and then picks up the ridiculous pace it tends to adopt at Katara’s appearance.

Her smile falters as he closes the door behind her, steps in close and studies her face.

“What?” Katara asks, teasing lightly as her fingers skate over his ribcage; he shivers from the tickle and catches her wrists. “What is it?”

Zuko can’t find the words -- there’s too many of them.

“Are you going to save me from the pirates?” Katara teases, lifting her arms to show the way his hands have totally encircled her wrists.

He makes a noise of apology in his throat and moves to let her go, but Katara shakes her head. “Seriously, Zuko. What’s wrong?” 

_ Don’t block me out,  _ she’s said to him more than once in the last two months. And, even though it goes against everything he’s ever learned about most of his relationships, Zuko speaks as honestly as he can.

“I don’t know what I’d do if I lost you,” he confesses, his voice brittle. His hands migrate, smoothing up her arms, over her shoulders, and bury themselves in her hair. “If something happened to you. Katara.”

Her name is a shipwreck on his lips. 

“Katara.” He kisses her deeply, pouring whatever he has left in his soul into it. “Katara,” he whispers against her lips.

“Zuko,” she whispers back, pushing into him as he pulls her near, tides gentling, then growing, and gentling again. “Oh, Zuko - nothing’s going to happen to me.”

He shakes his head, disbelieving, before kissing her again, one hand moving to her back to hold her closer.

“Nothing’s going to happen to you, either,” Katara says, surging up to kiss his jaw, standing on her toes to reach his chin, his neck. “I won’t let anything happen.”

That makes him smile, even through the maelstrom of conflicting feelings. His smile breaks quickly, and he hides the emotions surging inside of him in the next kiss.

“I need you,” Zuko confesses. “I want you, and I need you.”  _ And I love you.  _

“I need you too,” Katara answers, and he swallows his disbelief. 

Katara doesn’t  _ need  _ anyone - she’s the strongest person he’s ever met. But Zuko’s sure that if she were gone, his life would burn to cinders.

Zuko picks Katara up easily, grabbing her by the back of her thighs and hauling her up to his waist. He strides across his bedroom quickly, and lowers them both to the mattress, letting out a pleased rumble when he realizes Katara is only wearing the slip, and nothing else.

“You’re like a ridiculous dragon,” Katara laughs, but the laugh becomes a gap as he licks and kisses her throat with a fierceness. “O-oh, I like that-”

He nips at the soft skin that connects her neck to her shoulder, and Katara’s hips roll into his, near violent waves of motion that push his thoughts further into wildfire.

“Katara,” Zuko can only say her name, over and over again, pausing to see her nod or to relish her gasps of pleasure as he devours her slowly. 

She’d called him a dragon, but he’d be lying if he said he didn’t feel like one at that moment -- possessive, powerful, desperate, burning alive with every touch she bestows on him.

But dragons are more than power -- they’re controlled, and calm, and giving. So Zuko gives.

He gets on his knees and licks Katara open, consuming her praise and her moans with equal enjoyment. When she’s come twice on his tongue, he crawls back up the bed, sucking kisses into her hip, her ribcage, the soft skin under her heavy breasts, and Katara tangles her hands in his hair and keens loudly at the attention he bestows on each nipple.

When he finally pushes into her, Katara lifts her legs and digs her heels into his upper thighs, clenching around him as she throws her head back on the pillow. 

“Zuko,” she chants with each thrust, “Zuko -- La, Zuko, yes, Zuko, Zuko-”

At one point, he takes her wrists and pins them to the bed, after she scrapes her nails down his back and nearly causes him to come, far too early into his worship of her.

He’s horrified when he realizes that he’s done so, and releases her with an apology, his hips stilling.

“No.” Katara shakes her head and keeps her wrists in place as she stares up at him. “I like it. I do. Zuko, please-”

Zuko replaces his fingers around her small wrists carefully, squeezing in a way he knows isn’t painful, and Katara’s moan is entirely unfeigned. 

“Tighter,” she encourages, and she whimpers into his fierce kiss as his hips stutter and begin to move again.

He can’t maintain the kiss like this, so he lifts himself up and lets himself thrust faster, trying to displace his weight without crushing her.

“More.” Katara rolls her hips into his, and gasps ecstatically when he complies. “More, tighter - yes, yes, more-”

Zuko can’t help it anymore, and he comes with a grunt; Katara locks her legs around his hips when she realizes what he’s doing, and he collapses, still moaning, his face buried in his neck while his cock twitches and his stomach swoops almost painfully.

Before he’s even fully done coming, Zuko props himself up and slips a hand between them. He rubs at Katara’s clit between the knuckles of his index and middle fingers; she comes almost immediately, her eyes rolling back in her head, and her hands spasming against his neck as she holds him tightly.

They don’t whisper and giggle and banter like they normally do; Katara cleans them both up with water drawn from the basin, and Zuko clutches her to him, his heart still pounding, as he kisses her hair over and over again, still strangely desperate and needy.

The moon washes over their tangled forms, and Zuko falls asleep knowing that Katara will be awake, keeping them both safe, for quite some time after.

He trusts her to keep them safe; not counting Iroh, he trusts Katara more than anyone else in this world.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> YEP so now the chapter counter is SIX and then if Zuko STILL hasn't figured out how to tell Katara he loves her, and if anything else goes awry, it's ... going to have to be longer.
> 
> And then there's the definite chance of a betrothal (with some hints in this chapter), which means engagement, and a wedding, and so much angst potential there.
> 
> (Also, Aang is in the next chapter. Whoops).
> 
> PLEASE LET ME KNOW WHAT YOU THINK and thank you so much for reading!


	6. Midnight and Meteors

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zuko and Katara share a moment in the middle of the night, and multiple truths come to light.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HELLOOOOOO
> 
> You'll see that I've given up the pretense of a chapter count.  
> Whoops.
> 
> Thanks to everyone who was so encouraging about me continuing this fic! This chapter is dedicated to all of you!! Originally, this chapter had Aang appearing, but he's now in chapter 7, meep, because this chapter hit ~4000 words with just angst and fluff and smut and I wanted to keep all the chapters about the same length.
> 
>  _notes_  
>  This chapter takes place about 2.5 months after Katara arrives to the capital  
> This chapter ends with letters - specifically, a letter that was referenced in chapter 1 of this fic, with the response to that letter.  
> (If a letter has something crossed through, it means that it didn't make it into the final draft of the sent letter)
> 
>  **warnings**  
>  References to child abuse (Ozai burning Zuko specifically) and mental illness (Azula's breakdown)  
> Brief smut (outdoor sex in the middle of the night, but still a liiiitle exhibitionist)  
> A tense, angsty conversation that resolves itself (that needed to happen)

Zuko sleeps heavily these nights.

Nightmares have plagued him since he was thirteen years old: visions of his father towering over him, a hand of flame held to his face as he chokes on built-up screams and smoke; images of Air Nomads left broken by the wheel of his family’s imperial machine; the kind face of his mother swallowed by fire and darkness.

Sometimes, he sees Azula in his nightmares. And not the Azula of now, who’s always tired and more likely to be a danger to herself than others, the Azula of now who wanders her private gardens silently and can’t speak to him most days. No, it’s not that Azula. The Azula in his nightmares always wins the Agni Kai. The Azula in his nightmares sends a bolt of lightning towards her original target; in his nightmares, Zuko’s never fast enough, never strong enough to stop it.

Zuko’s dreams were, for so long, terrifying to the point where he never wanted to sleep. But, most nights now, Zuko falls asleep and doesn’t dream.

It’s probably the presence of a body next to his, maybe in the most physical sense, that drives away the darker dreams of his past. It could easily be explained by the comforting warmth so nearby, pressed up against him.

But, Zuko’s seen too much in this world not to have trust in the spirits, and more importantly, trust in her.

Katara sleeps with one hand on his body, on his shoulder or more likely his chest, on his side when he rolls away from her, on his hands when he curls around her and holds her tight. He knows it’s the anchor of her soul close to his that keeps his dreams away; when he wakes at sunrise, it’s to the sight of Katara, to her touch, to her beautiful face, the deep-set determination of her expression softened by sleep.

Katara falls asleep after him, and wakes after him - Zuko pushes back the time he usually sleeps so that he can spend more time with her as she comes into her element. Still, she grows restless when the moon rises over Caldera City, and Zuko understands the sacrifice she’s living as she confines herself to his room at night when her spirit yearns to be under the moon.

She stays with him, even if it would be better for her to go.

It’s a terrifying mirror to the fact that she’ll have to leave the Fire Nation, and leave him, one day. 

Probably soon.

So, Zuko sleeps heavily and wakes at dawn; he keeps his eyes closed and breathes slowly, his hand on Katara’s hip, or back, or hair. He grounds himself with her proximity, counts her heartbeats until his shifts to match hers, and tries to accept that one day she won’t be here anymore. 

His dreams will return when she leaves him -- except for the one, true, good dream he’s let himself have in the last ten years: the dream that Katara will stay and accept his suit formally and become the Fire Lady and build a family with him and smile at him when he’s being ridiculous until he’s a hundred and two. 

When Katara leaves, that dream will too, dissolving into nothing more than ash and smoke.

* * *

There’s a soft whisper of his name that drags him from heavy sleep.

“Zuko.”

He twitches and sighs, curling his body towards the warmth in his bed; he wakes more quickly when he realizes there’s only an indent, and no -

“Katara?” He rubs his knuckles into his good eye, blinking awake.

“Zuko.”

Lifting his head from the pillow, Zuko sees that the doors to his balcony are thrown open, and the middle of his room is flooded with a beam of moonlight. As he sits fully upright, his sheets pool around his waist; at last, he can see Katara outlined in the light.

“Zuko, come here.”

“I’m sleeping.” 

He knows he sounds more amused than cross, but he gets up anyway, not wanting Katara to think he’s actually upset with her. 

His legs are heavy with sleep still, and he stumbles a little getting out of bed; rubbing his eyes more, he crosses the room to the balcony. A few times, he almost stumbles into a vase or a table, all of which are full of fire lilies. A stiff, humid breeze wafts in through the open doors, stirring the curtains around him as Zuko moves, feeling as though he were dreaming still. 

It doesn’t help that he can see Katara, wreathed in silver, fully now - she’s otherworldly in her beauty like this. Her nightdress is sheer and loose around her curves, but the silhouette of her form manages to chase the last vestiges of drowsiness from his system.

“You must be sleepwalking, then,” Katara teases him, hand outstretched towards him. “Is this a good dream?”

“It’s always a good dream with you,” Zuko answers honestly, immediately.

He takes her hand, and they draw together under the stars and moon. Katara sighs happily when his arms encircle her, and she turns her face up to watch the sky wheel overhead, streams of light breaking apart as meteors burst in a rare summer shower. 

“Wow,” Zuko murmurs.

“And you were going to sleep through it.” Katara’s stern voice is somewhat undercut by the kiss she places on his bare chest. “Lazy dragon.”

“That’s me.” Zuko kisses the crown of her head before looking up at the sky again. “Thanks for waking me up.”

“You’re thanking me for waking you up in the middle of the night? Someone got up on the right side of the bed.”

“You’re the one who’s grumpier than a hungry platypus bear when she’s woken up too early,” Zuko points out. He accepts the playful jab to his ribs in stride; it’s easy to, when Katara immediately follows it with gentle circles of her thumb.

They don’t talk for a few minutes; the meteors continue to streak and shatter overhead, brilliant points of light that fade, leaving traces of blue behind Zuko’s eyelids. The moon is almost full again, and the entire capital is washed in the cool light, the colors at odds with the intense humidity and lingering heat of the day. 

Katara radiates with a contentment that makes something inside Zuko yawn open wide. It’s hope that will break him; he knows that. It would only be luck that kept Katara here a moment longer than she’d want to. And, Zuko’s never been lucky. 

Well, maybe that’s not true: he’s certainly lucky now. He’s standing with the girl he loves, watching a beautiful cosmic event happen over the capital of the country he rules, the country he loves and wants to see prosperous once more, the country that has much to atone for, the country that can and will do better in the future. 

Lucky might not be the word. Fortunate, maybe. Zuko’s more interested in redirecting his fortune, in claiming and being responsible for his destiny.

While he’s thinking, Katara continues to watch the stars, something churning in her own head. It slips out when his eyes are starting to droop again from exhaustion.

“You came back so late last night. You could barely talk when you walked in the door.”

“Sorry.” Zuko means it. She’d been sitting on the bed when he stumbled in, three hours after their regular dinner time. “I don’t mean to make you wait for me, ever. You don’t have to-”

Katara tsks. “That’s not it. I just - I know you were tired. And I woke you up anyway because-”

“Because?” Zuko tilts his head back, assuming she’ll point out the meteor shower (which, honestly, he’s happy to see).

“Because I missed you.” Katara’s shoulders round a little, like she’s hunching in on herself. “And that’s … selfish.”

“What?” Zuko takes a step back, letting his hands slide down Katara’s arms so he can catch her hands and hold them as he looks into her face. “Selfish?” 

Katara shrugs and looks away. That won’t do.

Zuko ducks his fingers under Katara’s chin and gently guides her to look back up at him. “You’re the least selfish person I’ve ever met, Katara.”

“You’re busy, and I - I am too. I like my work in the city, but … I miss you when we can’t …” Katara’s skin heats under his fingertips, and Zuko’s heart trips into his throat.

“I missed you too.” Zuko curls his fingers to curve around the back of Katara’s jaw, letting his thumb stroke along her chin, her cheek. “I always miss you. That isn’t selfish.”

_Selfish is me keeping you here._

“What? Zuko, you can’t believe that.” Katara’s hand goes to his chest, and her eyes widen. “You aren’t keeping me here.”

“You heard me?” Zuko winces. “Ugh. I said that out loud.”

“You really did.” They both laugh awkwardly. “But Zuko, how long have you thought that?”

“Months,” is his miserable answer.

He stares out over the lower roofs of the city while he waits for Katara to scold him for keeping that from her after he’d promised to try and be more open.

Instead, her cool fingers touch his cheek, startling him; Zuko’s eyes return to Katara’s face as she presses her right hand to his left cheek. After a moment of tension, Zuko relaxes and turns his face into her palm, kissing the inside of her wrist. 

“You aren’t forcing me to stay here,” she whispers softly. 

“You’re kind,” Zuko says shortly. When Katara’s eyebrows lift questioningly, he sighs and explains. “You know that I’m …” 

He wilts a little, his heart slamming with a new urgency. He’s sure that Katara, who can feel the fluid of his blood racing in his veins from a mile away, master waterbender Katara, realizes why his heart is moving so quickly. 

“You’re too kind,” Zuko tries again. “And I’m … lonely, and I can’t leave the capital, and I - you knew that I was lonely when you arrived.”

“You think I’m staying here, that I’m _sleeping_ with you,” Katara hisses, suddenly angry (and that’s good, Zuko thinks, Katara being angry at him is very familiar territory), “Because I feel _sorry_ for you?”

Zuko cringes. “When you say it like that…”

“Listen to me.” Katara’s finger jabs into his chest, right above his scar. “The last thing I feel for you is _sorry,_ Fire Lord Zuko.”

“Okay.” Zuko doesn’t let himself hope at what Katara might actually feel for him. His mouth twitches upward slightly. “Lady Katara.”

“Ugh. Trying to appease me won’t work.” Katara crosses her arms and sticks her nose in the air. “I’m unappeasable.”

“Believe me, I know that,” Zuko teases, and Katara cracks a bright blue eye to scoff indignantly at him. “You’re impossible to appease.”

“Am not!”

“Are too.” Zuko slides a hand along Katara’s waist, taking a step in. “I saved you from a collapsing temple, and you basically slapped me.”

Katara harumphs. “That’s taken out of context, Lord Zuko.” 

She takes a step back, but only barely: her left foot slides slowly along the stones of his balcony, her movements obvious and telegraphed, like her warm-ups when they practice. Zuko slides his right foot forward and follows her. It’s a waltz, and his hand stays at her waist, and his heart stays in her hands the entire time. 

“I … taught the Avatar firebending, and you said you’d kill me.”

“Hey! You didn’t teach Aang _for_ me-” 

“I did a lot of things for you in those days,” Zuko whispers, some of the teasing gone from his voice. Katara’s expression softens, and she stops sticking her nose in the air and instead watches him closely. “And you were still unappeasable.”

“You left me.” Katara’s voice cracks, and Zuko’s heart does a little too; all of the teasing leaves him as he studies her face, his heart pounding. “You - you _betrayed_ me, and I - I cared about you, even then.”

Katara cares about people instantly; it’s her strength, and her weakness, and Zuko would be lying if he said that decision under Ba Sing Se hadn’t haunted him for nearly six years.

“I didn’t want to,” Zuko says, holding her tighter, glad when she doesn’t shove him away. “That was the last thing I wanted to do, I swear, I was just so confused, and - and my sister had said … it was complicated. It’s not a good excuse, but … Katara, you were the only person in years who’d been kind to me for no reason. Please, I - I made a mistake, and I’d do anything to take it back.”

Katara nods and looks away for a second, a tear slipping out of her eye. “You shouldn’t take it back.”

Zuko freezes a little and nods, his throat seizing with unshed tears. He’s about to pull away, when Katara adds, quickly as though she’s afraid she might cry: 

“You shouldn’t because you wouldn’t be the man you are now if you hadn’t done that. If you hadn’t made that mistake. And it hurt me, and I still … I still worry about where I’d land if you weighed me against your honor again, but I know you had to do that for … for you to see how far you’d fallen. So. You shouldn’t take it back. You wouldn’t be Zuko otherwise. You changed after that,” her voice breaks terribly, “I know you did, but-.”

“Katara.” Zuko knows there are tears on his face, but he doesn’t hide it when he touches her jaw gently. She looks up at him sadly, curled inward as though protecting herself. “I did change. And I’d choose you every time, now. My honor, my bending, or anything else in this world. I’d choose you.”

Katara’s eyes shine in the moonlight, and Zuko thinks there’s no way she could misunderstand what he meant by that. This is probably the most open they’ve been with each other in the last few months; they’ve shared plenty of moments of vulnerability, but this feels more like honesty, in the way that honesty is raw and open and full of hurt.

“I know that now.” Katara places her hand back on his chest and takes a shuddering breath, her eyes locked on the horrible scar there. “I’ve seen you choose. And I’m not asking you to - to choose that again-”

“I would.” Zuko covers her hand with his again and takes another step forward. “I wouldn’t hesitate.”

“I know,” Katara whispers, and she stands on tip toe to place her hand on his unruined cheek. “I wouldn’t either. I’d choose you.”

Zuko’s heart twinges, and then they’re kissing and it feels as though he’s pouring half of himself, if not all, into it. They clutch at each other desperately, heavy words unspoken mixing with the humid air around them; the kiss gentles into something recognizable, and Zuko’s lower stomach boils as his hands wander along the silk of Katara’s shift.

“I lied,” Katara whispers as he leaves her mouth to kiss along her jaw; Zuko stills for a second, and Katara giggles nervously and threads her hand through his hair. “Okay, I didn’t tell the full truth.”

“Oh?” 

Zuko resumes kissing her jaw, moving down to her neck; he loves the way she moans sharply and leans up into the kisses, her arms wrapping around his neck as his fingers hook around the collar of her necklace, pulling it down slightly so he can suck a mark into the column of her throat, a small mark that will be hidden when he pulls away, but he’ll know is there.

“Zuko-” Katara gasps and her hands twitch against the planes of his stomach. “Zuko, I - I didn’t just wake you up because of the meteor shower.”

“I know.” Zuko chuckles and kisses back up Katara’s throat, now paying attention to the tender spot behind her ear. “You missed me.” He nips her earlobe, something that always elicits a shiver from Katara.

“Y-yes, and I - I wanted-” Katara tugs on his hair slightly, drawing a ragged moan of desire from his throat as flames spike high in his belly. “I wanted you.”

“You wanted me?” Zuko wraps his hands around Katara’s waist again. “Why not wake me up in bed?”

“I wanted you … out here.” Katara’s eyes track to the stone railing of the balcony, and she bites her lower lip nervously.

Zuko grins, feeling feral, and is about to oblige when a thought occurs to him. “Uh.” His cheeks flush. “I don’t know-”

“What?” Katara stares at him, incredulous. “You don’t want to fuck me on the railing?’

Zuko’s cock twitches; his cock definitely wants to fuck Katara on the railing. It doesn’t know why they aren’t doing precisely that, right now, right this second.

“Because.” Zuko eyes the moon warily. “What if-”

“What if?” Katara repeats when he trails off.

“What if Yue sees?” Zuko whispers. “You know? And then tells Sokka?”

Katara stares at him for nearly five seconds before she bursts out laughing - far too loud for the open air. Zuko claps a hand to her mouth with a stifled laugh of his own as Katara’s eyes tear up from her mirth. 

“That’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard,” she informs him, as prim as she can while her voice is being muffled by his palm. 

“I can’t believe you’re laughing at me,” Zuko grumbles as Katara giggles again. He gives up and lowers his hand away, deciding that he likes the sound of Katara’s laugh too much to try and hide it. “Like we said, you’re unappeasable. Even though I saved you from the pirates.”

“Hmm.” Katara almost rolls her eyes but stops herself; instead, she smirks at him. “You know, I don’t think I’ve thanked you for that.”

“Ha, ha, we all know you saved yourself from them, _and_ from me-” Zuko begins, but he stops talking when Katara hooks her fingers in the waist of his pants and smirks up at him some more. “Uh - but yes - thanking is - I like to be thanked.”

“Oh, hush, Prince Zuko,” Katara teases as she leans up for a kiss.

Things happen in a silver-edged blur after that; Zuko fades into the soft pleasure of it all, and is left with the overwhelming sensory memory of Katara gripping the stone railing as her body grips him just as tightly; his hand is tangled in her loose hair, his other hand at her hip as she rocks backward onto him, her moans hanging like jewels in the air; he remembers the taste of salt on her skin as he licks her neck, lost to the rhythm they’ve created and the feeling of her around him; he remembers her soft cry as she comes undone around him, shaking, and he remembers tumbling after her, his chest pressed to her back as they both arch and moan with aftershocks. 

They stumble back to the bed, laughing softly as they trade kisses, and Zuko’s limbs are heavy again with the sleep he’d put off to be with Katara in the moonlight. 

He yawns sharply and closes his eyes, one arm wrapped around Katara who’s obviously still wide awake, the other arm tossed over his head on the pillows. Katara traces aimless patterns on his cooling skin, and it helps to shift him towards sleep once more, even when she swoops her finger down his long nose.

The air is heavy with the smell of them, of sex, and of the fire lilies that fill the room; it’s the fire lilies that Katara watches as Zuko drifts off slowly. 

“Zuko?” She whispers suddenly, right as he hovers at the edge of unconsciousness.

“Mhm?” He doesn’t open his eyes; it’s nice to hear Katara say his name.

“My first day here, you said you sent my father fire lilies, so he could grow them for me.”

“Mhm. Did.”

“...Why did you do that? That must have been … over eight months ago.”

“Oh.” Zuko rolls the syllable around in his mouth for a second before remembering to answer. “You know why.”

“Do I?”

But, he’s already asleep, and Katara kisses his shoulder before closing her own eyes in an attempt to fall into sleep with him. 

* * *

(Letter from Katara of the Southern Water Tribe to Fire Lord Zuko, dating seven months back)

_Zuko,_

_Aang’s gone. I don’t know if that would interest you because I know you two aren’t on speaking terms right now. But, you are the leader of the Fire Nation, and you should probably know that when I say Aang is gone, I mean Aang is gone._

_He left for the Spirit World, and before he left, he ended things with me permanently. I don’t know why you would care about that detail, but I felt like writing it to someone who would understand. Sokka is being nice about it, but he’s always tied up in Suki or the tribe or some kind of council, and Toph just offered to get me drunk the last time I told her Aang and I were having problems._

_We were really close friends once, you and I. And I know that we’re still friends. We’ll always be friends, but it’s been weird only seeing you a few times a year while you save your country and I … go wherever I’m needed. But, now that Aang is gone, I feel … rudderless. No, that’s not right. I can get back to shore whenever I want to. I feel free, I guess. Like I can go anywhere. But I also feel left behind, which is silly of me._

_He left because he had a calling, and I feel silly being upset by that. And, without wanting to upset you, I know that … well, you told me that Mai left for much the same reason earlier this year. You were so calm when you told me, or at least your letter was calm. Maybe that’s because you have Iroh with you to make you tea and tell you it’s going to be okay._

~~_Is it bad that I want someone to tell me it’s going to be okay?_ ~~

_I’m down here at the bottom of the world, frustrated because I’ve put years of my life into helping someone who decided that I shouldn’t be with him as he goes for the next part of his destiny; let’s just say I could use a little calm right now._

_So, what do you think, wise and powerful Fire Lord? What do I do now? ~~Why aren’t I heartbroken?~~ _

_Always your friend,_

_Katara_

* * *

(Letter from Fire Lord Zuko to Master Katara of the Southern Water Tribe)

_Katara,_

_I regret that my duties at present will not allow me the time to put more thought into this letter. You honor me by sharing your thoughts, and I have considered your words many times in the past days._

_It sounds as though you feel restless: I am, unsurprisingly, familiar with the feeling. I often find myself staring out across the ocean, wondering how the cast-out nomadic exile became … whatever I am now._

_I recognize that my home is surely a place of mixed emotions for you, many of which might be negative, painful, or even traumatic. Truthfully, it is a mixture of those emotions for myself as well. But, it is still my home, and whenever you wish to visit, you will be most welcome as my honored guest. I must admit that I grow lonely these days, with only my advisors, the turtleducks, and at times my uncle, for company._

_Perhaps it would be good for you to travel on your own as you adjust to these changes in your life; if you choose to stop by the capital on your journey, please know that you will find me, as ever, your servant. Merely send a note ahead of your arrival, and I will be there to greet you at the dock myself._

_Always yours,_

_Zuko_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OOOOOOPS
> 
> I swear this chapter had a plot planned with Aang showing up and everything being awkward, so that's coming up next. We also have ... dates and love confessions and proposals (maybe) etc etc etc.
> 
> Thank you again to everyone for being so kind and leaving such awesome comments and kudos and sharing your thoughts. I'd love to hear 'em all!!! <3 and thanks for reading :) Let me know what you'd love to see in the future, and if you wanna shake Zuko really hard yet!

**Author's Note:**

> ooops! 
> 
> THANK YOU FOR READING!


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